


The Magician Queen

by rythmicjea



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 77,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rythmicjea/pseuds/rythmicjea
Summary: Where do I even begin? Well, the S4 season finale happened... But I think I saw the MHHE advertised on the Magicians discord and I thought "What the hell?" This was my chance to get my first book written. I didn't think I would be able to do it. I started writingas soon asI got my prompt. I only wanted the one. I maaayy have selected that as all three of my options... My thinking was, "I get it? Cool! I don't? No skin off my back". Unsure of how long I could write meant that I challenged myself to write 500 words a day, every day, for the month of June. That would get me to the 15k minimum I needed. Well... I did that in two weeks. I wasn't even a quarter of the way through my outline! So 50k it was.I started to write, I felt really good about it, and then... I found out I was moving across the country. Something I had been hoping for ACTUALLY was coming true! So... fic went by the wayside.  Then I reread what I written and thought it was absolute garbage. I tried to continue, changed some things around, still wasn't happy but I had nothing else. Maybe something would come? I moved. Put it down for too long again. Reread it, didn't hate it as much but I could work on it. Then the deadline fast approached. Holy shit I got it done!I need to thank first and foremost my artist Elizabeth (https://ebstout.tumblr.com/). She is so amazing I can't even. The craziest thing about it was that our locations weren't disclosed but we lived in the same city! Talk about kismet. And then, here I was moving across the country. We were able to meet in person. Who else can say that? I was so happy for our vibe. She seriously was my rock through this whole thing. When I wanted to scrap it, she kept me going. When she was at a block I was there for her. I can honestly say I made a friend. I didn't think that would happen. There might be a happy ending to all of these fics but I feel like I really did get the Hallmark Ending. :DSecondly, I need to thank my friend Cerb for being my beta at the last minute. When you write something epic like this, you hope to be able to find a person who can help capture your voice and style and make it better. You fear that their ideas and edits will overshadow you. Even though he was a pinch-hitter I can honestly say in a very short span of time he was able to not only recognize my style but elevate it. He made me be in awe of my own ability. Everyone should have the chance to work with an editor like him.This, from what I know, is the only Qualice fic in the entire challenge. I hope you give it a chance.
Relationships: Fen/Eliot Waugh, Margo Hanson/Josh Hoberman, Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, William "Penny" Adiyodi/Julia Wicker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 5
Collections: Magicians Hallmark Holiday Extravaganza





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Where do I even begin? Well, the S4 season finale happened... But I think I saw the MHHE advertised on the Magicians discord and I thought "What the hell?" This was my chance to get my first book written. I didn't think I would be able to do it. I started writing _as soon as_ I got my prompt. I only wanted the one. I maaayy have selected that as all three of my options... My thinking was, "I get it? Cool! I don't? No skin off my back". Unsure of how long I could write meant that I challenged myself to write 500 words a day, every day, for the month of June. That would get me to the 15k minimum I needed. Well... I did that in two weeks. I wasn't even a quarter of the way through my outline! So 50k it was. 
> 
> I started to write, I felt really good about it, and then... I found out I was moving across the country. Something I had been hoping for ACTUALLY was coming true! So... fic went by the wayside. Then I reread what I written and thought it was absolute garbage. I tried to continue, changed some things around, still wasn't happy but I had nothing else. Maybe something would come? I moved. Put it down for too long again. Reread it, didn't hate it as much but I could work on it. Then the deadline fast approached. Holy shit I got it done!
> 
> I need to thank first and foremost my artist Elizabeth (https://ebstout.tumblr.com/). She is so amazing I can't even. The craziest thing about it was that our locations weren't disclosed but we lived in the same city! Talk about kismet. And then, here I was moving across the country. We were able to meet in person. Who else can say that? I was so happy for our vibe. She seriously was my rock through this whole thing. When I wanted to scrap it, she kept me going. When she was at a block I was there for her. I can honestly say I made a friend. I didn't think that would happen. There might be a happy ending to all of these fics but I feel like I really did get the Hallmark Ending. :D
> 
> Secondly, I need to thank my friend Cerb for being my beta at the last minute. When you write something epic like this, you hope to be able to find a person who can help capture your voice and style and make it better. You fear that their ideas and edits will overshadow you. Even though he was a pinch-hitter I can honestly say in a very short span of time he was able to not only recognize my style but elevate it. He made me be in awe of my own ability. Everyone should have the chance to work with an editor like him. 
> 
> This, from what I know, is the only Qualice fic in the entire challenge. I hope you give it a chance.

Three strident raps hit the door to the small apartment as Alice Quinn stumbled out of her bedroom, mascara smudged around her eyes, and her icy, blonde hair a disheveled nest of knots. It had been another all-nighter for her the deadline for her book was fast approaching, leaving little room for things like sleep and food and personal hygiene. Normally she never allowed herself to get into such a chaotic state but the stress was becoming too much. Opening the door, she found herself presented with a bag of groceries and a delighted “Hey Vix!” to go with it.

“Quen? What…what are you doing here?” Alice rubbed at her eyes, the mascara left on her lashes flaking down her cheek.

“It’s Sunday,” he gently reminded her. “Our weekly brunch?”

“It’s not…” Alice began to protest but her mind caught up with her. “It’s Sunday!” She was supposed to be farther along with her pages and they were due tomorrow. Her eyes began to blink very rapidly as the neurons in her brain fired with information. The sudden but soft kiss on her forehead brought all of the planning to a halt. The fog cleared from her eyes and she was met with his squinty smile. 

“It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of the food and you go take a shower.” He pushed by her into the messy apartment. Alice’s world was usually organized to the hilt but her apartment was indication of how out of control she was getting as her deadline was approaching. Take out boxes, soda cans, and empty mugs covered almost every surface. A pile of washed laundry was left unfolded and picked over in a basket next to the television. Last a pile of books and loose papers haloed her laptop on her coffee table. She had made herself a nest and it looked as if she had no intention of leaving. Q tried to be smooth about the disaster in front of him but Alice knew him too well and silently began picking up trash and clothes. After setting the groceries on the counter he took her by the arms and simply looked into her eyes until she focused on him. “Don’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it.” He kissed her forehead again but let his lips linger until he felt her melt into him. The pile dropped at his feet and he smiled. Turning Alice towards the bathroom, he gave her a solid smack on the ass while he turned back to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, eliciting a giggle from her as she disappeared.

Alice showered until the water turned cold. Letting the warm water flow over her head and neck as she just let her thoughts float away. The holidays were around the corner and her father had begun the yearly advertising and party push for the store. He tried to tell her that she didn’t have to work so hard but it didn’t assuage the guilt from her mother’s passing. Q had offered to help; since his repair shop was by appointment only he could dedicate as much time as he wanted to the little bookstore across the street. But, Alice was stubborn on that front too. Her pride got in the way of accepting help. She was raised to be strong and independent. After her mother’s passing, subconsciously, she doubled down on that pride. She wanted her father to know he could count on her. That he wasn’t alone in life. 

The sugary and bready smell of pancakes welcomed Alice back into her tidy living room. Her hair hung wet and limp but her shoulders were relaxed from the shower removing the weight from her shoulders. “Pancakes?” she smiled.

“Pancakes,” Q affirmed. “And bacon.”

Q beamed as Alice clapped her hands and spread them wide in a joyous fireworks display. “And bacon!” He loved how silly she became when she was comfortable enough to let her guard down. 

He invited her over to the table and set a plate in front of her. “Madam,” the word was an instruction as he shook out a napkin and laid it over her lap before stealing a quick kiss against her temple. 

The table had been set with a homemade strawberry syrup, powdered sugar, and butter. Alice dug in greedily to the bacon before moving onto the pancakes. The veracity of her appetite was almost unexpected. Q remained unfazed. It hadn’t been the first time she’d gotten herself in such a state because it generally happened with every approaching deadline. He was finding himself over at her place more and more, however, to cook and clean for her because she was at the finish line. It took Alice a little bit longer than usual to slow her pace and recognize her boyfriend had joined the meal and that she was part of a civilized society. 

The apology was on Alice’s lips when Q cut her off with a “Vix, you’re fine. Besides, it just reminds me of how voracious you get in other circumstances,” he winked brazenly. 

“Q!” she practically screeched as her cheeks flushed hot. She was met with a laugh and a proffered strip of bacon that she bit off half, which made him laugh out loud. 

The pair fell into a comfortable silence. They weren’t wild like Alice’s friend Kady. Kady was the one to introduce the two after she spotted him gazing at Alice from across the way. He was nervous at first, stumbling over his words and unsure of where to put his hands. He had been afraid that the peasant dress and glasses were a façade; but instead he’d found a shy and breathtakingly intelligent woman whose eyes stared into him as if he were a puzzle to be solved. That first day he realized his biggest fear in life was that she would solve his puzzle and be done with him. 

“Vix?” he set his napkin down as she looked at him with that ice blue intensity. “Do you think you can clear some time on Friday? I know it’s asking a lot given your time constraints.” It was the most polite way of devising how to address the number of times she had cancelled on him in the past month. 

Of course she saw right through him, she always could. Instead of her face falling into sadness then warmed up with empathy. “I’m sorry Q. I haven’t been the best girlfriend lately have I?” 

“No… You’re perfect. It’s just…” He started to stumble over his words and Alice reached across the table taking his hand. “This Friday is our one year anniversary and I… I wanted to do something special.” Alice didn’t have to say anything, her face said it all. She had forgotten. She was usually all about dates and events. She was a historian for goodness sakes! Q brought her out of her reverie again. “It’s okay… it’s understandable even. I just… really want to make this special for us.”

“Well, you’re in luck because Friday is completely free for me. I’m not scheduled at the shop and my pages will have been sent to my editor.” Alice took a more sensible bite of her strawberry pancakes and moaned. She could eat the syrup with a spoon. Q smiled and wondered how he had gotten so lucky. 

***

“So, what did he say  _ exactly _ ?” Kady pressed for the third time. Kady had been Alice’s best friend since middle school and she couldn’t be any more of her polar opposite. Kady was tall and slender with big brunette curls, while Alice was short and all curves with pin straight icy blonde locks. The two balanced each other out even from their first meeting; Kady found Alice eating her lunch in the bathroom after the gaggle of popular girls had singled out the bespeckled nerd as their newest play toy. The tough brunette gave them a piece of what they had coming to them by picking out the ringleader’s boyfriend and disappearing with him for him to return, with only a few minutes left for lunch, disheveled and dazed. It was a message. Whatever they valued most Kady could take from them with a crook of her finger. Kady regularly risked detention and other punishments in the name of her friend. For all of Kady’s bravado she had been just as lonely as Alice and they were able to find comfort in each other.

Alice’s big blue eyes rolled up into her forehead with a sigh. “He said that I was perfect and that he wanted to do something special.”

Kady tossed a garment over to Alice, another piece to try on in the growing pile of fashion contenders. Kady’s apartment was filled with her current designs because if it wasn’t for Alice’s friendship, she wouldn’t have been able to get into the prestigious SAIC. Kady always offered her first pick of a House Orloff design and she almost always declined. “You’ve been dating for a year, he thinks your perfect, and he wants to make this special…” she ticked off the clues in a leading voice hoping her friend would pick up on what she considered obvious.

“Yeeesss?” the word drawled out of Alice absolutely oblivious.

The hangers slid against the metal of the rack making a satisfying  _ shink _ as Kady appeared through the garments. “He’s going to  _ propose _ !”

Alice gave her friend her patented look of doubt.

“You have been so inside your head with your book you can’t see what everyone else sees. He’s absolutely  _ twitterpated _ with you. Your book is almost done, you’re going to change the world of medieval history, and you’re going to have a husband who will dote on your every whim. Hell, he does it now!”

Alice slumped into a chair, ignoring the growing pile of clothes. Before she could protest, Kady cut her off with her own patented ‘you know I’m right’ look. Alice took a moment to think and her lashes blinked quickly as she analyzed all of what Kady was saying. Slowly turning her head to look at her friend Alice felt the weight of butterflies filling her stomach. “He’s going to propose…” she whispered before popping up out of the chair with a slight manic laugh “he’s going to propose!” As quickly as the excitement came it left and she began to pace.

The brunette watched her friend with a shrewd eye. She knew the rollercoaster ride of her friend’s moods. “Lace… what are you thinking?” When an answer didn’t immediately come she waited for a moment to catch her friend’s attention. Alice alternated from biting her nails to balling her fists and muttering under her breath in an almost dead language.

The snap was lightening quick and broke Alice out of her contemplation. “Lace. Talk to me.” Alice just bit her lip. Kady shrugged off her tough exterior letting herself soften with empathy. “Do you love him?”

The question was gentle and kind and barely finished before Alice exclaimed “of course!”

Kady smiled tenderly. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with him?”

Alice looked down at her ruined manicure, “I couldn’t imagine my life without him…” for all of Kady’s gruffness Alice could be made of stone.

The leggy brunette stepped fully through the rack and gripped her friend’s shoulders in support. “Then there is your answer.” Blindly unhooking a hanger from the rack she pressed a dress against the blonde’s frame. “And wear the lace,” she brazenly winked.

***

“What the fuck do you mean you want half my country?” High Queen Margo stood from her throne, staring down at the guests turned interlopers. 

“Your majesty, this is our territory too. We simply want proper representation.” The West Lorian diplomat, Ess, sauntered forward, each step showing his cockiness and arrogance. Given the military training it was not hard to imagine him clutching the hilt of a sword at his hip. ”We are barely fiefs in your hierarchy. We till your land, provide you food, fill your coffers, and for what? To always fear for the winds of change?”

“This is tyranny.” Margo lifted an eyebrow.

“This,” Ess gestured to the court, “is politics.”

“Jesus Christ on a stick.” Margo swore. She wanted to throw everything at this man’s head but she caught the eye of her head chef, Josh Hoberman, and instead fixated on straightening her jacket.

“It is but a simple request. You have no Queen and your King has not been in the court’s attendance for almost a year now. Galavanting in the Americas, I believe.”

“I don’t need a King and Queen to rule your pansy ass.” Margo began to pace. Her theatrics were known all across the country. She was never known for her decorum but she always got results. High Queen Margo the Destroyer was her full title and though she was petite in stature, she more than made up in her bravado. No one crossed her.  _ No one _ .

“By the kingdom’s charter, you do. We will give you until the New Year to bring King Quentin back and institute a Queen or we will petition to institute our own.” The West Lorian emissary announced with a smirk.

“Have you even thought your little threat through?” Margo was on her last nerve. This is what the representative was counting on. A good diplomat not only knew their opponent’s weaknesses but how to exploit them. Essentially, he had her on the ropes.

“I have. But, if I may be so bold-”

“Because you’ve been tip toeing through the fucking tulips?” Margo snarled. Ess would never admit it but that snarl was doing more for him personally than politically. For a brief moment he pondered if she was flirting with him.

“I don’t think you realize what will happen if you continue this standoff. Your subjects will stop their work, there will be no more trade, and your country will go destitute.” He tried to hide his smirk he would protest in the future telling of his conquest, but he would be lying.

“Oh? And how long do you think the people would last with that plan? We have reserves, we have a plan to ration. You say that the country would go destitute. Do you really think that the people,  _ my people _ , would allow you to lead them into such a dire straight? Go ahead. Try it. Because when they get to the breaking point, I’ll be there to pick up them up and save them from your ridiculousness.” Margo finished her argument with a sweet smile. She had spent her whole life being told that she could be pretty or strong or smart but never all three. She spent her entire reign proving everyone wrong.

The smirk quickly dropped off of Ess’ face, he fell into the trap she laid for those that came before. There was more than one way to be a “destroyer” and he had underestimated his High Queen. Almost. The member of parliament didn’t smirk but there was a twitch. “My High Queen, where is your military based?” Fuucckk… Margo hadn’t thought of that. Her silence was all he needed to continue. “You’re right, you can save the people from starvation but can you save them from your own army? Killing your own citizens is a war crime, is it not?” 

The High Queen’s face was flushing harder with every word spoken. “You wouldn’t dare…” she gritted through her teeth.

The laugh was mocking, “oh no. But it would be so  _ easy _ ...”  He let his words trail off, the unspoken thought of him staging a coup hanging thickly in the air. He inspected his manicure blasely waiting for his queen to respond. 

If flames could fill one’s eyes and make smoke come out their ears that would be the state of Margo at that moment. “If I even get a  _ whiff _ of a plan of implementation it will mean  **_war_ ** .”

Thoroughly satisfied with the encounter, Ess bowed and pivoted on his heel and sauntered back out of the throne room. “You have until the new year, your highness,” he called over his shoulder without looking.

Once the doors to the throne room closed, Margo’s scream of frustration rang through the castle


	2. Chapter 2

Alice looked at herself in the mirror for a moment more. Kady had helped her get ready, giving her hair a bit of fullness and contouring her cheeks a little deeper. The dress fit perfectly, like they always did. The pink lace had a boat neckline that showed off her clavicles without any cleavage. It was a popular debate between the two friends. Kady was under the assumption that Alice should show off her assets while Alice’s mother’s voice rang in her head that only sluts reveal so much. This was a compromise. The short full skirt easily fit into Alice’s personal aesthetic and why she was okay with showing her legs but not her neckline continued to be a mystery to Kady. Along with her fashion and design sense, Kady had an eye for picking the right color for an event. The right color could evoke emotions deeper than the surface. Her favorite class at school had been about color and marketing and she utilized it as much as she could in her own designs. The pink she had chosen wasn’t bright enough to be for a spring ensemble or garish to be considered candy-like. Instead it had a tinge of purple to coordinate with the colder weather but it brought warmth to Alice’s pale complexion. More importantly it was light enough to invoke wedding thoughts incase Q got cold feet.

Quen rubbed his hands together in anticipation of Alice’s arrival to their favorite restaurant. Normally he would have picked her up at her apartment but the phone call he received from Margo that day threw his mental state into a tizzy. He had hoped he could have hidden away in America and led a simple life. Sure, his title afforded him a bit of luxury but it wasn’t like he utilized it. Though he wasn’t a prince he was still in succession should anything happen to Eliot. Eliot… Quen shook his head clearing the thoughts. That was in the past and he was with Alice now. The way his heart felt when he simply looked at his blonde girlfriend was more powerful than any escapades he may have participated in with his ex-boyfriend.

It was the devastating news Margo had given him. War was looming. West Loria was getting restless with the Sovereign Queen’s throne still vacant. She didn’t tell him much more than that, just that the diplomat from the West Quadrant had a good plan in place, one that would throw the country into turmoil if it wasn’t handled delicately. This meant that Quen needed to come home.  _ Now _ . Margo said he could bring his girlfriend, encouraged it even. He wasn’t going to question how she knew about Alice. Alice... Hell he hadn’t even decided if he was even going to tell Alice about Fillory. But, Margo had insisted, it would boost the country’s morale if he brought her with him.

“Q…” the shy voice broke through the cloud of thoughts. Quen quickly picked his jaw up off of the floor from his first glance.

“Vix…” standing he appraised her appearance with his eyes. Normally he would have leant in to kiss her cheek but instead he captured her pillow soft lips instead. There was too much emotion in the gesture and the tension became incredibly palpable.

“That was nice…” Alice whispered after pulling away slightly.

Quen smirked, “Yeah you are.”

Alice rolled her eyes with a smile. A line like that might lead someone to think her boyfriend had game but he was more awkward than she was. Most would consider him annoying, she thought he was endearing. With the world coming back to them Quen escorted her to her seat and decided to let the political upheaval of his home go on the back burner for a while.

\--

After dinner the two took a stroll through Grant Park after getting a dozen of their favorite donuts. Alice had become comfortable enough to let all pretenses down and let her face get dusted with powdered sugar. “This has been a wonderful night, Quen. I can’t believe it’s been a year,” she breathed.

Quen’s shoulders tensed at what Alice thought his full first name was. What a funny coincidence it was when she found out his first name was the same as her last. The guilt washed over him. How could he ever expect her to be with him if he couldn’t even be honest about his name? He felt her attention shifting; he could never hide anything from her. Quietly, he diverted them over to a bench. “Quen? What’s wrong?” The words were out before he could stop them.

“T-There’s some… something I-I’d like to ask you.” This was it. Kady was right. Alice brushed any powder that she felt might still be on her chin away. Alice had her answer prepared, Quen just needed to ask. Her eyes shone bright and she tried not to chew on her bottom lip as he took her hands in his.

“Alice… You are the light of my life. Whenever there is darkness you banish it away simply by walking into a room. I love how I can watch your mind work as it processes information. You make me a stronger man and you would humble me if you allowed me to be by your side as your star only rises. Alice Quinn will you…” Alice nodded afraid her voice would fail her, “come to my home for the holidays?”

Alice could normally hide any emotions from her face but she couldn’t stop the confusion and borderline revulsion that covered her face. “…What?”

“Okay… so… I know that was a lot of lead up to that question. But… there’s something I haven’t told you… about… me.” Quen dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m not… I’m not from New Jersey.” Alice looked at him like he was a puzzle where none of the pieces fit. “I’m from a small country named Fillory… It’s in the middle of Europe.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”  _ Fillory _ ? Alice had never heard of a place. She had spent 5 years studying medieval European history and she had never once heard of a country called Fillory.

“It’s hidden between Switzerland, Germany, and Austria. No one has heard of it really. We’re an independent state that is highly protected by our neighbors. Tourism is our big export but really anyone outside of mainland Europe has never heard of us. We like that because of our natural resources.”

Quen had begun to babble and Alice knew that she just needed to stop him before processing through all he was saying. “Q, I think we’re getting off track. Are you saying that you’re…” Alice dropped her voice to a whisper, “illegal?” Chicago was a hotbed of immigrants and the politics surrounding it just as touchy.

“Not… exactly.” At Alice’s raised eyebrow he took a breath and continued slowly for his own sake. “I am on a visa just not on one an immigrant would usually get.”

“Okay…” Alice wrung her hands in her lap. Over the few moments where they had once been tightly entwined they were barely touching. They were only an inch apart but it felt like a canyon between them.

“I’m on a diplomatic visa.” Alice continued to look at him like she was trying to find the missing piece to his puzzle. “I’m a… I’m a king.”

Now Alice did look away. “You’re… you’re a  _ king _ ?”

“Yes. My official title is King Quentin the Kind, Sovereign king of Fillory.” He felt it best to not draw direct attention to his name as he was called ‘Q’ by certain people. “I know this comes as a shock. I’m really not  _ that _ important. There is a High King and High Queen but I am still next in line if anything happens to the current High King.”

“So… is that what you wanted to ask me?” At first Alice was nervous about him proposing to her but once she came to realize it was what she wanted, her heart felt like it was drowning. But, Alice couldn’t possibly ask him about it. Her presumption and the possible fall out was too much.

“Yeah… Christmas time is our biggest time of the year because of our proximity to the mountains and our ski resorts. Personally I like spring better, but… that’s beside the point. I want to bring you home and introduce you to the court. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner but because I’m not that integral to the political scene I thought I could just stay in America and build a life here. I never meant to mislead you I just wanted to be your Q.”

Those brown puppy dog eyes always made Alice melt. He wasn’t brave enough to manipulate her with them and she believed he didn’t comprehend what they did to her. But even if she could forgive him this was huge and she needed time to process and she told him as such. Alice kissed his cheek to reassure him, and her, that this wasn’t the end. That he hadn’t caused an irreparable rift between them. She just needed time. Alice made her way out of the park alone leaving Quentin to curl into himself as the weight of Margo’s ultimatum bore further down on him.

***

Margo sat in the breakfast nook waiting to be served. Josh stood to the side silently as Margo graded the two new servants. The first placed the empty dishes in front of her from the wrong side, the second splashed her coffee onto the lace cloth, and both made a mess of serving the food. The theory around the court was that only Josh could serve Margo in the way she preferred and one could only hope to come close to that standard. She was also known for firing the help if they looked at something wrong. It didn’t matter what they were looking at, just that they were giving what she perceived to be an odd look. 

With the raise of her hand and a twitch of the fingers the two new kitchen staff scurried away like barn mice. “It is a week before the season sets in and  _ this _ was what you could get me?” Margo scoffed. 

“Your highness-” Josh began. When the perturbed look didn’t dissipate he started softer. “Margo. They are new. You can’t expect them to be perfect the first time they serve you.”

“And why not?” She looked at him pointedly. “How many weeks did you have with them before this? I can’t expect dignitaries to wait around while these fledglings put their cocks back in their pants!”

Josh pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. It was a dangerous breach of protocol but after her display against Ess the rumor mill would be buzzing in the servants quarters tonight. She had unwittingly afforded them some time alone. “You know that your title is well earned and precedes you. However, taking what is really going on inside that brilliant head of yours out on the new servers isn’t going to solve anything.” He rested his hand next to hers. He was careful not to touch her first. He never touched her first. But he knew the presence would be enough.

“You don’t understand what is at stake here. I am losing control because some assless chaps walked into my court.” 

“Quentin is coming home. The people  _ love _ him. He isn’t nicknamed ‘kind’ for no reason. His presence alone can soothe any tension. Political or not.” 

Margo threw her napkin down on the table with the same force her legs pushed her chair away from the table. She knew her subjects respected her but she never could stop the initial jealousy over the people’s love of Quentin whenever it was brought up. She looked over the grounds as the various crews started to prepare for the holiday season. The snow hadn’t come down from the mountains yet but it would only be a matter of days. The meteorologists were starting to ‘smell’ it. Whatever the fuck that meant. “He’s bringing someone.”

“Well? Can you blame him? You  _ did _ tell him he had to get married. What did you expect?”

“I expected a nice Fillorian girl… or boy-”

“You expected he’d come home to Eliot.”

“So? They were great together. The unification of the Waugh clan into the sovereign thrones would have secured our legacy for generations to come.”

Josh sighed and stood. “Margo,” he chided. “Give her a chance. I’m telling you that if you don’t at least  _ try _ to support this girl he’s bringing home then there is a very good chance you’ll lose him too.”

_ God dammit! _ Margo hated it when people were right about  _ feelings _ bullshit. She never let herself admit it though. “Don’t you have some kitchen staff to fire?”

Josh stood smoothly fixing his chef’s jacket. “I’m not firing them. I’ll work with them some more but you are going to have to show the rest of the principality that you trust me.” It was loaded, he knew it. He knew he shouldn’t have said it but not saying it didn’t make it any less true. 

As he walked to the double doors he heard a quiet “Guppy?” The name gave him pause. She only called him that in very specific circumstances. Turning on his heel he faced her wordlessly. The stare was more intense than it should have but Margo was taking him on a rollercoaster ride. “... You forgot to bow.”

With his right fist held over his heart he gave her a curt bow with a “Yes my High Queen.” And then he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m really very happy you agreed to come,” Quentin practically gushed.

“Yes, well, Kady told me I was being stupid,” Alice admitted. A flight attendant took her bags as she paused to take in the private jet. Well… he  _ did _ say he was royalty. 

“I know it’s small… But, it’s a very quiet ride… and fast. Usually it takes over eight hours to get to Zurich but the pilot can make it in seven.” His enthusiasm continued as they entered the main cabin. “Please!” he gestured to a seat. Alice sat gently looking around. “There’s food and drinks and the seats recline all the way if you want to take a nap.” 

“Q?” Alice looked at him directly.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t exactly sure what she was thanking him for. The tour, an attempt to be quiet, or not letting the days apart get to him - though she wasn’t sure that one was exactly true. Before either of them could say anything else the attendant asked for him to find his seat. Take off was smooth and so was the flight itself. Alice had brought her work as seven hours was an entire work day and she could get a lot done in that time. However, an hour in, Alice found the quiet a little disturbing. Looking over, she saw Quentin engrossed with something on his phone and leaned over to tap his shoulder. “Q?” She paused, hand outstretched as he shifted his focus at the sound of her voice. 

“Yeah, Vix?” He rested his phone in his lap, screen down, giving her his full attention. “Is everything okay? If you need anything the attendants would be happy to get it for you.”

“No. No, thank you. It’s just... I have a question.” Alice took a breath as Quentin watched her eagerly. “Why is it that I have a Masters in European Medieval History, and yet I have  _ never _ heard of this ‘Fillory’?”

He seemed to be waiting for this moment as he shifted in his seat.“Short answer?” he started, almost as though he rehearsed this, “World War II. Long answer? We partnered with Switzerland, during the Great War, to be a neutral zone and guarded our borders from any invasion and we didn’t let anyone in. Or out…” he paused. “It was a dark spot in our history. It’s only been less than sixty years ago that we began to open our borders and after the Second World War, Germany was destitute and we were afraid of the aftermath. Honestly, everyone’s economy tanked in the later half of the 1940s and the ‘50s came and America’s economy was on the rise, allowing the rest of the world to catch up. But then there was the Cold War...”

“Okay,” she nodded slowly, piecing it all together. “I’m understanding it a little better. But, what about before the 20th century?”

“Oh, well we were lead by different principalities and there were always four different courts vying for control. Borders shifted so much before we became a microstate. That’s why we have the hierarchy we do now. Each family, decided by the amount of holdings they had when this all began, was given representation. It’s why we have a High King and Queen and Sovereign King and Queen.” Quentin had to remind himself to tread lightly or he was going to start talking about the political unrest happening. “I’m not doing my country’s history any justice. How about this, when we land, the royal library is all yours to explore. You can have unfettered access to it.” He took her hand in his and pressed his lips against the back of her palm as he spoke before looking into her eyes. 

“I think I’d like that,” she giggled as she leaned in for a kiss, stopping short when a flight attendant’s voice came over the intercom to announce meal time. Quentin chuckled as he muttered something about breaking the mood.

\---

Alice worked the rest of the flight, feeling a wave of excitement every so often whenever she would drop her hand to the side and Quentin would be there to grasp it. After arriving in Zurich, Alice felt her heart flutter at the sight of a car waiting to take them directly to the castle grounds. Quentin had hoped to take the train, and show her the countryside, but it seemed the High Queen had other plans. Thankfully, Alice slept most of the way. Quentin admired how hard she worked and knew the time difference would take some adjusting, so he let her rest before subjecting her to their itinerary. He was quite certain Margo already had it meticulously planned to the minute.

As they drove, Quentin’s eyes flitted along the villages as silently prayed to the gods that Margo hadn’t made a big fuss on his first night home. The long flight would surely leave him and his girlfriend jet lagged, and it seemed too good of an opportunity for his High Queen to scare Alice off. As they neared the castle, the spires barely peeking above the hills, Quentin’s attention shifted as Alice stirred in his lap, yawning as she sat up to rub the sleep from her eyes. He did his best to hide his smile at the sight, but Alice didn’t notice as they arrived at the front gates.  Alice stared in awe at the scenery around her, seemingly untouched by the past centuries as lush forests stood as a backdrop of rolling hills and farms. She felt as though they traveled to a magical land stuck in time, barely registering the modern conveniences as she admired the craftsmanship of the woodwork. The stones had been polished from years of wear and upkeep, giving them a shine that seemed to emanate from within, and intricate forms were carved in the wood above the homes of the… Fillorans? Or was it Fillorites? She bit her lip as she struggled to remember what Quentin said the people of Fillory were called, but was interrupted by the realization that they were greeted by a parade of uniformed persons as the car pulled into the gates.

Men stood to the right side and women to the left. “Don’t mind the servants,” Quentin remarked, raising his hands in defense at her glare he continued, “I don’t want you to feel nervous by the attention is all.” From behind the line of servants, an impressive rise of steps led to the form of a petite, dark haired woman looking down upon the two with an embroidered eye patch as their luggage was being collected. Alice turned at the presence of the High Queen’s stare and asked Quentin what happened to her eye. “The number of people who know the story behind it could be counted on two hands” he said as she stared at the steep climb. “There are many heroic tales surrounding it, but no one really dares to ask her directly, and those who actually know what happened are too afraid of her to reveal it.” A valet opened Quentin’s door and was at her side with impressive coordination to do the same for her. Thankfully, her side was opposite of Margo or she was certain the High Queen would have seen Alice scrambling to regain her footing after tripping over the carpet the staff had lain out, her first  _ faux pas _ of the evening.  _ Fucking great _ , she grumbled silently. 

However, the most astonishing thing Alice witnessed wasn’t the servants or the countryside or even Queen One-Eye herself, it was the transformation her boyfriend had once he was standing on his home soil. As soon as he stepped out, he buttoned his sportcoat,  _ wait… when did he put that on? _ He stood taller, chin high and shoulders back, and his hair was out of his face. The usually messy and monochromatic Quen she adored was nowhere to be seen. His jacket was a nice heather grey and with a red cashmere sweater underneath, and the oxford under his sweater was unbuttoned in a not-trying-too-hard-but-definitely-planned casual style. Alice’s eyes widened in awe as she watched the attendees all bow and curtsey deeply to him before she realized she had yet to meet his outstretched hand. Looping her arm through his, Quentin escorted her through the procession of quiet ‘your highness’s and up the stairs to finally meet High Queen Margo. Quentin bowed shallowly to his monarch, kissing her outstretched hand in greeting before stepping aside to present Alice. “My Queen, please allow me to present to you Alice Quinn of Chicago, esteemed and well-educated historian and my honored guest to Fillory.” Quentin’s eyes sparkled as he looked at his American girlfriend, a weight, he hadn’t realized he had been carrying, lifted off of his shoulders now that she knew his secret. 

Alice dropped a small curtsey out of pure reflex, unsure if what she was doing was correct as she let her sixth grade cotillion prove its worth. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Highness. Thank you for having me.”

Queen Margo pursed her lips as she lifted a brow. “I’m glad you could make it,” she smiled in a way that Alice couldn’t help but feel was rehearsed, “Considering you didn’t seem to know my country existed until a week ago.” Her eyes cut to Quentin, who, to Alice’s surprise, kept his composure as he gave his girlfriend’s hand a reassuring squeeze.  _ Don’t worry _ . Alice was glad she wore a scarf to this, hiding the flush of the heat she felt in her neck. Oh. This trip was going to be  _ fun _ . 

High Queen Margo’s attention snapped to the servants beneath them. “Why are you all still standing there?”, the question was rhetorical. Snapping her fingers, the Queen made a sharp motion. “Are you waiting for my balls to freeze off?!” The welcome committee quickly dispersed, leaving the three standing on the steps alone. If Alice hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn the High Queen knew magic the way she seemed to make people disappear.

“Well, Margo.” Quentin became less formal without the servants around. “Aren’t you going to invite our guest in?”

The brunette waited a moment sizing the two of them up as she peered down her nose at them. She relished the feeling a little of how she kept herself taller by keeping them a step down. With a groan she threw her hands in the air as she led them to the castle doors. “Fine.”

“Thank you. Now, Alice, please don’t be alarmed by Margo’s earlier comment. She knows very well that the majority of the world doesn’t know her kingdom exists and that’s how she  _ likes _ it.” The tone Quentin donned was very telling of their relationship. It had a sibling quality even though she knew that Quentin was an only child. Alice tuned out the rest of the conversation trying to take in the grand sight of the palace interior before her. It was gilded from floor to ceiling, there were frescoes on the ceilings, and tapestries along the walls depicting battles and family trees, and some depicted fairytale like stories. There were wizards with wands and witches with glowing symbols; and, magical creatures like satyrs and centaurs. They pulled the observer in almost entrancing them… 

“Isn’t that right, Alice?”

“Hmm?” Oh, they were speaking to her!  _ Fuck! Shit! What did they say? _ Best to just agree and then figure it out later. “Yes, of course.” A little voice nagged at her saying it had to do with their history. “I would love to learn more. Especially about your traditions. Q-I mean, Quentin, said that your family line goes back hundreds of years.”

“Well our library has the largest collection of pagan and non-christian tomes in all of Europe. After Constantine converted his empire we were able to keep a stronghold of our own religious practices, due to our geographical location. However, with our territory being directly on the crusaders path to the Holy Land many of our citizens were persuaded to follow a more Christian teaching.” Margo sounded a bit bored at the retelling as if the information had been drilled into her head as part of her civics lessons. Thankfully the condescension had left her voice but Alice couldn’t be sure that reprieve wouldn’t last very much longer.

“Margo, please tell me you haven’t planned anything for tonight. The trip was long and I’d like to show Alice around the palace and just chill for the rest of the evening,” Quentin slightly pleaded.

“Jesus Quentin. It’s like you think I don’t have any sense. No. There’s nothing planned for tonight, but we are having a small court dinner at the end of the week.”

“Great. Uh… thank you. We’ll have dinner in our room then.”

Margo cocked her head and a ghost of a smile appeared. “Now how would that look, King Quentin?” Q hated it when she called him that. “We must keep up propriety. You’ll have your room and Alice will be in the Gold Room.”

“But that’s across the castle!” Quentin’s voice echoed slightly off of the walls. 

“So? It’s the best guest room we have. It’s just  _ filled _ with history.” The condescension was back.  _ Awesome _ .

Before Quentin could make his retort, Alice placed a hand on his arm. “Q, it’s okay. Really. I mean Margo did go to the trouble in making sure a room was set up and that I would be as comfortable as possible. Besides, it’ll just be one night.” Alice gave a quick side glance to Margo before kissing her boyfriend’s stubbly cheek. Alice didn’t like confrontation but she wasn’t a stranger to competition.


	4. Chapter 4

The time difference was almost a third of a day ahead of Chicago. Even though it was mid-morning in Fillory it felt like the middle of the night for the couple. Due to the small nap Alice had on car ride there was some adrenaline running through her system. Quentin walked her around the palace first going by the stables so the two could get much needed fresh air after the long flight. Snow hadn’t fallen yet but Quentin had a nose for ice and could tell it would be coming soon. Which meant snow and snowball fights and crystal clear skies where thousands of stars could be seen. Alice greeted each and every horse and he watched as she fed them apples and carrots and sugar cubes. Thankfully the tension from meeting Margo was beginning to dissipate.

Once back inside, Quentin took Alice to the armory. He left Alice to inspect the antique weapons and tapestries as he went and set up lunch for the day. Careful not to touch the items that were exposed she got as close as she could to inspect the filigrees engraved and inlaid. The walls were covered with tapestries but they were different from those she saw in the foyer and parlors. Some followed the classic life story of a person; she figured they were a ruler or a succession of them. Alice tried to follow the story the best she could. Birth, death, war, victory, all classic historical themes but nothing gave her any clues to who they might be. No lions from British heraldry or flowers from Gaul, and no German eagle either. Instead the common animal symbol was a ram.

Alice’s eyes followed along until she got to a phrase. It looked like Latin but the accent marks were found more in German. Though it wasn’t a German she was used to.

 _Wenn das Blut gegangen ist_   
_und Bedrohung des geteilten Geländes -_ _  
_ Weisheit wird den Weg erleuchten.

…Was this Fillorian? Alice’s eyes followed the golden threads of the embroidery up and surrounded by trees and flowers and two rams on either side was a beautiful flaxen haired woman whose eyes were a bright cerulean and seemed to bore into Alice’s soul. There was something so oddly familiar about the figure, but almost as soon as her attention was caught by it a voice cut through her consciousness “I knew I could still find you in here,” he laughed. Quentin.

Alice yelped in surprise, grasping her chest “I didn’t touch it!”

Quentin laughed with his belly as he bent over gasping for breath. He wiped a tear from his eye when he had calmed down.

“It’s not funny!” she admonished.

“Oh, but it _really_ is.” He sauntered over to her his face still flush from his laughter before pulling her into an embrace. “I see you found her.”

“Her?”

“The Ram Lady,” he motioned to the tapestry.

“Who is she?”

Quentin shrugged. “We don’t know exactly. We know she’s part of the missing line but we don’t know who, let alone if she even existed.” The lie flowed smoothly off of his tongue. The old adage of telling a lie enough made it true rang through his thoughts. This had been a lie the sovereignty had been telling for generations.

“Missing line?” Alice felt something in her chest, a siren’s song that she demanded she know more.

Quentin knew that look in his girlfriend quite well. There was a mystery to solve but now was not the time to solve it. Smoothly he led her towards the door of the room saying “I’ll tell you the story later. First, we should eat and I want to introduce you to my friend Josh. He’s the head chef and if Margo would ever let him leave he could have a hundred restaurants to his name all around the world. But, between you and I?” He whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t think he’d ever want to leave.”

“Why not? If he is so good and could do so well for himself why would he stay?” Alice, forever the magpie.

Gripping her tighter around the waist, Quentin simply said “You’ll see,” before leading them to the dining parlor.

\---

Lunch was overall uneventful, in a refreshing way. Meeting Josh was an absolute pleasure. He was funny and charming and his food was divine. The two regaled her of tales of the two of them growing up. Alice wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone the stories they told because she didn’t understand most of them herself. It was just really good to see her boyfriend laugh until he practically hiccuped.

Lunch was unlike the rest of the time she had observed. The nook was like their own little bubble. Quentin wasn’t a king and they weren’t dining in a palace halfway around the world. Outside of the little table just outside the kitchen, the normally shy and timid man she knew was confident and assured of himself. Every servant they passed dipped a curtsy or bow to him to which he only gave little acknowledgement. It wasn’t that he was actively trying to avoid them, like he usually did in crowds; it was like water rolling off a duck’s back. It was instinctive. He was almost a completely different person here.

Lunch was filling and the couple had been running on adrenaline for most of the day. Alice tried to stifle a yawn and was rewarded with a kiss on her temple. “I know; you’re tired. Me too.”

“It’ll be fine,” Alice waved off.

“I like how strong you can be, but jet lag isn’t a joke.” Quentin stopped them outside of a double set of doors. There wasn’t court business today and Margo certainly didn’t conduct personal business here as it were. “I want to show you one last place before I take you to bed.”

“Oh Q… It’s been a long day, I don’t think I’m up for anything strenuous.” Alice slightly whined. At the bemused look Alice realized that Quentin meant it in the most banal way. She flushed and he laughed.

Silently opening both doors at the same time a grand hall decked in frescoes and tapestries, with gold and stain glass windows was revealed. At the bottom of the room was a large space for a standing audience that led to pews with folding trays, for conducting business, and ended with a platform a few steps above the room that hosted four different thrones. Each chair designed for its occupant. “Welcome to Parliament.”

Alice’s eyes were wide with excitement. Her fingers lightly grazed the pews and she spotted half written notes and pens in slender holders. “Where is everyone?”

“The government is out for the holidays. They come back after the New Year.” Quentin held back as Alice took in all of it. Vine covered columns mixed with Louis XV opulence. “We were Switzerland before they were. We were a place where Kings and Queens and Emperors would converge for treaties and accords.”

How had she _never_ heard of his country? She had only scratched the surface but there was so much to discover. She could write a book on his land alone. At last she fixated on the thrones. She stopped at the first pew hesitating before walking forward. She felt him behind her before he spoke. “You can sit if you want, even in Margo’s throne. I won’t tell.” There was a wink in his voice as she saw his outstretched hand.

Taking it gingerly he escorted her to the stairs, letting her ascend them on her own. Each throne had a different personality and aesthetic. Each was made from a rich ebony wood with dark green upholstery. The high thrones were the same height but taller than their sovereign counterparts. Margo’s was decorated with gold filigree of vines and flowers winding around each post. The High King’s was a dedication to Dionysus with grapes and flowing wine. Quentin’s was carved with geometric patterns found in nature like the Fibonacci sequence. Across the splat would find a scene with respective details in a more intricate form. 

Without hesitation Alice chose the throne on the far left. The ebony wood was embellished in silver, unlike the gold in the high thrones, with animals such as a stag and ram, and mystical fruits such as pomegranates and apples. An effigy to the goddess Diana if one were to see it fully. Alice felt a comfort upon sitting, like Goldilocks, this one was just right. She surveyed the room before her. It was such an interesting vantage point. Seats that might be hidden from the High King would be in plain view to her. She wondered if the acoustics would bounce against the walls and into her ears like the rotunda of the Capitol building in Washington DC. After circling the room her gaze fell to Q, who was wearing a very peculiar expression. “What is it? Not used to seeing someone in your seat? It’s very comfy.”

“That’s...that’s not mine.”

Alice looked at it more closely, like the wood would feed her the answer. “I don’t understand. The animals… the hunt…?”

He pointed to the opposite side of the platform. “That’s mine. Mathematics and engineering in nature. The throne you’re sitting in, hasn’t been occupied for the better part of a century.” Before his girlfriend could ask the obvious questions he continued. “It belongs to the lost fourth line. It’s said that they held great knowledge of the world. That they retained the lost stories of the world. 

“When WWII began and the warring forces were closing in, our own military was quite young and fragile. We relied on Switzerland for protection in the Great War and we followed their example of neutrality into the second one. It was a very trying time and a very difficult stance to maintain. The fourth line, was afraid of being captured or assassinated. The things they knew and the influence they held was valuable to either side. So… they left. They… they haven’t been seen since.”

“Why weren’t they replaced?”

“Well…” Quentin leaned against the first pew, gathering his thoughts so he wasn’t a bumbling mess. History wasn’t his strong suit and he didn’t want to disrespect the memory of the lost family. “Seeing as I make a third person I am essentially the tiebreaker in any dispute. And,” he shrugged, “the country always holds out hope that their lost queen will come back to them.”

Alice let the information settle. Here she was, a foreigner, who - not even a week prior, found out her boyfriend was a _king_ was sitting on the throne of a long lost monarchy. It didn’t matter how comfortable the chair was, she was an interloper and she prayed that no one found out she made such an error. “You know, Q,” Alice said rising from the seat, “I think it’s time I took a nap.” Nodding in agreement he held out his hand to help her back down the steps. As they exited, Alice spared one last glance at the abandoned throne the feeling of longing taking root in her heart.

\---

The door to the Gold Room was open and was much bigger than Alice had anticipated. Where the communal areas were a display of gilded opulence the private rooms were much more subdued with an air of comfort. The Gold Room still had yellow as its main color theme but it was furnished with warm woods and art. The windows were new and must have been an addition when this was made into a guest room. It overlooked the mountainous side and she could hear people tending the gardens beneath her. A dinette set was in place off to the side for a private meal, a desk bureau for correspondence, a fireplace at the end of the room for warmth, and a beautiful dressing screen with more rams and fruit decorating it.

“I can see why it’s called the ‘Gold Room’. The yellow is very bright and fresh.”

“That’s not why it’s called that,” Q snickered.

“No? Is it because this is where all the gold was kept?” Alice rolled her eyes in sarcasm.

“Well…”

“No!” Alice gasped. It was logical that there would need to be a treasury but commoner and American sensibilities were winning out. “When was decommissioned?”

“Our parents were the ones who finally made the switch to us holding our assets in more than just physical gold.” The blanched look Alice gave him cracked him up and he could tell his girlfriend was getting loopy. Unlike other people, when Alice got loopy, she wanted to go down the rabbit hole of research. Crossing the room he held her gently by her arms. “Let’s get you to take a nap. I’ll check to see if you’re awake for dinner, if not, don’t worry about it.” He kissed her forehead and let her bury her head into his neck.

“You’re a _king_ ,” she whispered.

“Mmhmm…” he held her tighter, _but I’m nothing without you_. He thought. Getting her to bed was easy. Alice expected to take a nap so she kicked off her shoes. Quentin on the other hand had a feeling he wouldn’t see her for the rest of the evening.

\---

Alice jolted awake, warm and rumpled after passing out in her clothes. She could tell it was the middle of the evening by looking out the windows but she couldn’t confirm with her phone because had no idea where her phone was or even if it was charged. It probably wasn’t. The room wasn’t entirely dark; there was a roaring fire in the fireplace at the end of the room. Alice’s skirt was scrunched around her waist making the waistband was uncomfortably tight.

Disrobing, she spotted a plate of food on the dinette table. A card was written telling her that her bags had been unpacked, and that food and drink along with the fire had been provided while she was asleep. The charcuterie board was loaded with cheese, summer sausages, and some of the most delicious tasting bread and butter she had ever had. It seemed late enough that the palace would be silent for the evening and maybe she could take a stroll without interruption. Maybe she could get to the tapestry of the crowned woman again.

In the drawers she found her clothes neatly folded and organized and she pulled out her favorite over-sized Cubs tee shirt sliding it on sans undergarments. A fluffy terry cloth robe was hanging on the coat rack with slippers underneath it. The monarchy here really knew how to make a guest feel welcome.

Alice looked from side to side, seeing if anyone was standing guard her room. It was a silly notion, really. But given her interaction with Margo she didn’t want to be too careful. The hallways were dimly lit with electrical bulbs and Alice wondered if they were on some sort of timer. After walking for quite some time without a guard or servant in sight she realized she was lost. Hell, she didn’t even know if she could get back to her room.

Pulling the robe around her tighter Alice was deciding whether she should try to go back when she heard the faintest sound of music. Creeping forward, she found a door ajar with light and music coming from it. The hardwood doors traveled from floor to ceiling and stepping inside she understood why. The library was massive. Each wall was covered in bookshelves that they too stretched from floor to ceiling, at least fifteen feet high. There were rolling ladders to reach the very highest shelf. The room was decorated in deep mahogany with maroon lounging chairs. Like everything else in the palace it was a mix of antique and modern. The thick rug dampened Alice’s footsteps but like all old buildings a weak piece of wood gave her away.

Quentin’s head popped out from around the chair. He gave her a warm smile “I was wondering when you would find this place.”

Alice startled a bit but just as quickly relaxed. “This library…” her voice was filled with wonder as she continued straining her neck to see how high she could read the titles, “is amazing.” She felt Q’s hand in hers and felt herself being directed to sit in his lap.

“This isn’t the library,” the expression he wore could only be described as bemused. “It’s the den; specifically where my father did most of his work.” He took a deep breath in. “I can still smell him sometimes.”

“Where are your parents? You never speak of them.”

Quentin played with the tie of Alice’s robe. “My father passed away over a year ago and my mother is at home. In our tradition our monarchs retire instead of passing. When the child becomes of age then they start to take over the position. When my father died, I took over but realized that it was just too much and they didn’t really need me, so I came to America.” There was such finality to his tone. Alice wasn’t going to press further, she knew her boyfriend well enough that he’d open up when he was ready. “I’ll show you the library tomorrow, okay?”

Alice smiled, kissing his cheek with a smack. “Tell me a story?”

“Of what?”

“From here. What are your fairytales like?”

_Quentin thought for a moment and then began to speak. He spoke of a woman so beautiful and graceful that she was called Engela for only the angels could rival her beauty. She was a powerful with magick and medicine men came from far and wide to learn her secrets. She taught them what she knew but none of them left having learned a single spell. Each thought that they were smarter and more cunning than she. The power from Engela’s spells came from their simplicity. But none of the men wanted to listen to her lessons thinking they knew better and so they always left empty handed._

_Engela’s rations never went empty because she was paid in trade by the farmers and merchants surrounding her. She sold love potions to the girls and set up tests of courage for the boys. She had cures for blights and fungus for crops and cures for the sickness that came from the traveling merchants. It’s said that she is the reason why not a single person from Fillory perished from the Black Death._

_As the country began to expand so did the tensions between neighbors. The duchies of Fillory came together to create one government and unite the country as a whole. But there was no representative of the south quadrant. First the King of the West, who was the most charismatic of all, came to implore her for help and she refused. Then the Queen of the East, who commanded the strength of ten armies, came and still Engela declined. Then the King of the North, not as commanding or charming as the others did not come to Engela for help. No, he came calling to the people of the South to come together and beg for her help. And beg they did. Out of the four monarchs of Fillory she was the only one elected to the position. The people of her quadrant loved her so much that they made her Queen._

_Soon kings and queens and emperors from far off lands came for her counsel. She arranged marriages and prophesied wars to the victors. She never strayed from her home for long only coming to the capitol when necessary. Soon rumors about her virtue began to tarnish her reputation. Men were not a stranger to Engela’s bed and she was not ashamed as others have said she should be. Families of the other quadrants came to their rulers beseeching the removal of their Sovereign Queen. But for every excuse of why she could not rule she had a wise remark to rebuke them._

_One day, when she was home, a neighboring farmer came in desperate help. One of his heifers was sick and he was afraid that she would infect his herd. Engela created a potion for him that would allow the animal to pass peacefully. As with everything else it worked and his herd was saved. His gentle demeanor and strong hands held her interest. So much that every time she went to market she found excuses to seek out conversation with him. When an animal went to slaughter he brought her gifts of smoked and dried meats. And as all things happen, the two fell in love. He never let her royal status hinder the woman he knew her to be. She never tried to make him more than he was._

_The Gods loved them so much that they were blessed with many children and their eldest daughter, Kassandra, took the throne when Engela had no strength to keep her mind as sharp as needed._

“And from that point on, the eldest daughter of the duchy from the South engraved that her mother would always be known as the Magician Queen.”

Alice sighed. “That was beautiful.”

“It’s my favorite history lesson,” Quentin mused.

“You mean it’s true?” Alice kept her jaw from hanging open in amazement.

“As much as any oral story can be,” he shrugged.

A heavy and pregnant pause hung between them. Alice’s hand was trailing through Quentin’s long locks and his hands were stroking her thigh feeling the plush fabric of the robe. “Q… I’m afraid. I’m afraid that I’m going to find out that you aren’t the man I know. That this… _this_ … is-“

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere. This is just one aspect of my life. And this is not something we need to worry about at this time,” _especially not with the threat of war looming on the horizon_ , he finished in his head. The past few days were filled with gentle touches and kisses in innocent places. Quentin turned Alice’s chin to his and kissed her firmly. He had missed his girlfriend and their relationship. He had been cautious to not be overly affectionate in fear he wouldn’t scare her off. He could care less about what decorum dictated. He’d fuck his girlfriend on the banquet table in front of everyone if it was what she wanted.

Alice sighed into his kiss letting herself get lost in him. For a moment they were back in Chicago on her couch the TV playing some fantasy magic show on SyFy in the background. She could feel Quentin’s hand breach the gate of her robe as his warm hand splayed against her naked thigh. Pulling away, Alice stood before him, letting her robe pool at her feet. She straddled his thighs kissing him more urgently before. “I want…” she begged between kisses. “I want you… Just… _you. Q, please_?”

Their hands frenzied for the feel of each other’s skin. Quentin’s fingers found purchase in her hips and then they were whole again. Alice gasped against his neck as her body was reintroduced to his. She always relished that first movement; the stretch that came with accommodating him before they relaxed into their rhythm. The music had long stopped and the sounds of their heavy breathing took its place. Their mouths meshed in a futile attempt to stay silent. Proclamations of love were whispered when their breaths needed to be caught. Finally, Q’s teeth found purchase in her shoulder bringing her over the edge her back arching, her breasts pressing against him in ecstasy, tightening her grip on him as he lost the hold on himself. 


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next few days Alice spent much time in the den writing and studying the history of this hidden territory. Many of the books were written in what she had deduced as Fillorian and had begun the attempt to translate many of them. She was correct in it being a Germanic language with a Latin alphabet. She had to dig into her references of _Mittelhochdeutsch_ , or Middle High German, to understand a lot of it. Fillorian seemed to be more of a dialect of the Old High German she had come across in her medieval texts. 

Her editor had loved the new addition; especially if Alice’s hypothesis that they still held onto ancient traditions was correct. The mix of pagan and Christian Orthodoxy would garner her a lot of attention. It was also a ploy to find out more about Engela and her descendants. Alice wanted to go back to the armory but was afraid it might draw undue attention so she stayed with her books, with the words flying from her fingertips. Guide books weren’t her forte but the amount of attention she could bring to this little paradise was enticing. 

While Alice studied, Quentin attended to political duties with Margo. He learned more about what West Loria’s plans were and why. West Loria, was the High King’s quadrant. High King Eliot had taken a bride just the year before. 

Fen was a sweet girl. She was the daughter of a blacksmith whose specialty was in weaponry. Throughout the civilized world manufacturing and industrialization ran consumerism. But, in Fillory everything was still done slower and by hand. Yes, Fen’s father had a business with many apprentices under him. He had an online business that catered to historians and reenactors mostly. He prided himself on being able to make any blade someone requested. Fen, for her sweet demeanor, was skilled in knife wielding and if it hadn’t been for the arrangement created, before she was born, she might have gone into the military.

Margo knew that Eliot had nothing to do with the impending coup being threatened by the West Lorian member of parliament. But, it was obvious that they wanted to put Fen in the position. Margo didn’t have a problem with Fen. She liked Fen. Even if Fen could handle a knife better than most it didn’t mean she wasn’t pliable. The question was how indebted to Ess Fen was and where did Fen’s loyalty lie? If Fen was loyal to the crown then instituting her as Queen wouldn’t be a problem. But, if she had more allegiance with her quadrant then that could pose a problem. The one thing Margo did know was that it all rested on Quentin’s shoulders.

“Just meet with them,” Margo groaned.

“For what? I was at the wedding,” Quentin pushed back.

“Quen… people open up to you without you even trying. Believe me, it would not be good for anyone if I knew how to do what you did. Even if I may want that talent.”

“Margo, I’m with Alice. How will it look if I’m having lunch with Eliot’s _wife_?”

“It will look like you are getting back into the political scene. Which is what I _need you to do._ ”

“No Margo. Just, no. I’m not your puppet. Our constitution was written for a reason. The thrones are set the way they are _for a reason_. You can’t just buck hundreds of years of policy because some dignitary isn’t getting his way!”

Margo let out a long growling groan. Men were _impossible_ . “You have been gone for a _year_ Quentin. I have been left to try and keep up the appearance of a united front.”

“Oh, I’m so sure it’s been ‘so hard’ for you,” Quentin’s rolled his eyes paired nicely with the finger quotes he displayed. “I’m _sure_ it’s been a ‘struggle’.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“If you had womaned up and stayed instead of going to America then we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Margo loved Theodore. He was an uncle to her. “Curly Q, I-”

The childhood nickname was the final straw. Putting his hands up, Quentin silenced her. He knew she was going to make an apology. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t get us into this and I won’t be your solution. You can’t just push everything off to me like you did when we were kids. Whatever you’re concocting goes against our laws and I won’t be a part of it.” Turning on his heel Q stormed out of Margo’s office.

\---

Alice didn’t question Quentin taking refuge in her room. Even though he wasn’t able to get her accommodation changed to his room, he slept in hers every night. He barely spoke a word to her the day of the welcome dinner, or anyone else for that matter. She did the best to calm him down including pretending to play hooky on her recent pages and making out with him. To her own surprised frustration it didn’t work. Quentin had said the dinner wasn’t going to be extravagant just a few people from parliament and the court from his quadrant. Mostly people he was close to. As Margo had assured him it was a dinner for _him_ after all.

Kady had done all of the packing for Alice out of necessity on many levels. Kady seemed to have predicted every occasion Alice might need a dress in. Thankfully, the castle had wifi and Kady was more than happy to tell her what she was wearing that evening. Kady had picked out a red cocktail length dress with a sweetheart neckline and lace overlay bodice. The daring element was the open back that forced Alice to go braless. Thankfully there were built in cups because she would have truly caused a scandal without them. 

Quentin whistled, actually whistled, when he first saw her. He had gotten ready in his room after a much needed cold shower. He might not have been mentally accepting of her affection earlier but it was going to take everything he had not to be salacious in front of everyone else. “Vix… that dress… Tell Kady thank you for letting you live up to your nickname.” He kissed her cheek, careful not to chance smearing the red lipstick all over themselves. At least, not before dinner. 

Alice blushed fiercely, inviting him. “I just need to get my shoes on and then I’ll be ready.”

“Not just shoes,” Q admitted bashfully.

Alice sat at her vanity grabbing the '40s inspired suede pointed toe stacked heel with ankle strap pumps. “What do you mean?” She asked struggling with the strap of the first shoe. 

“Well…” Quentin pulled a small thin square black box from behind his back and handed it to her. “I think these will be perfect to wear tonight.” He traded the box for her shoes, bending onto one knee and fixing the straps for her.

Alice gasped when she saw the gift. A large pair of double drop garnet and diamond earrings. They were older than what would be considered “vintage” but their condition was immaculate. The large loop of garnets surrounded a smaller loop of brilliant cut diamonds all set in gold. “Q… Q I can’t…”

“You can, because you deserve them.” She barely registered that he had fashioned her shoes to her ankles as if she were Cinderella but she felt the weight of his hand on her ankles. “They have been waiting to grace your ears. Alice immediately fashioned them to her and the weight was immediate. She was certain they would fall off, but thought it better not to jinx herself. “You are… the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he breathed. 

The last few days had made it hard to see the man she knew before his revelation. It was quiet moments like this that brought everything back into perspective. “Thank you, Q.” Hooking her arm in his she looked at the two of them in the mirror. “Are you sure I’m dressed appropriately?”

Quentin beamed. This amazing woman was his. She walked into his life and he would fight the world tooth and nail before letting her go. “Vix, no one will be able to keep their eyes off of you.”

* * *

* * *

\---

Margo may be conniving but at least she kept her word. The guest list was small and included his childhood best friend Julia with her new husband Penny. Now all he had to worry about was the embarrassing stories that were sure to come out. Quentin had hoped that Margo wouldn’t have pulled any tricks but he never did learn. The seating arrangement was the most unusual. Instead of him and Margo sitting at opposite ends, _like decorum dictated_ , He found himself sitting next to Margo and Alice sitting at the foot. Thinking fast was never his strong suit and as he sat Alice in her seat he whispered an apology to her confusion.

Seated to Alice’s right was Julia, a spitfire of a personality and the duchess of _Zrklüftet_ the northernmost territory. Alice imagined she could hold a conversation all by herself. Which, for Alice, was a gift. Usually at this point of the movie the commoner girlfriend wouldn’t know which fork to use or mistake the cleansing bowl for a drinking goblet. Alice’s extensive research for her Masters Thesis prepared her for Josh’s twelve course meal. 

When Margo announced the “surprise”, Alice watched her boyfriend discreetly grab the back of his neck. A perverted form of showing his agitation by raking his hands through his hair. He threw another apologetic look at his girlfriend because tonight was going to be _long_. 

Alice being ever so polite, gushed over the first few courses. The first was goat cheese crostini with fig-olive tapenade; followed by sweet potato chips with goat cheese and caviar; and then, a pumpkin sage bisque. When Alice remarked on Josh’s talent with his creation of charred broccoli with shishito peppers and pickled onions Margo found it best to break in. “Yes, Josh is the absolute best. I’m sure this is a welcome change from pizza. I find the American diet so fascinating. You all are so monotonous and fickle.”

Alice sipped at her wine careful not to choke at the backhanded compliment. “Well, I think it depends on the area. The culinary regions of the United States are vastly different from one another. For example, Chicago is a culinary destination all on its own with over 20 restaurants having Michelin stars. And yes, we do enjoy our pizza but again it depends on the region. I mean, there’s Chicago style and then the wrong way to make pizza.” When the table laughed at her joke, Alice allowed herself a rare smirk and put the first tally point in her favor.

After the salad course of a chopped Thai salad with peanut dressing conversations split into smaller ones. It was during the fish course, crispy trout, native to Lake Walensee, complemented with a parsley-caper vinaigrette that Alice had a moment to speak to Julia and Penny semi-privately. They discussed what Q was like in school, attentive and intelligent but so shy; if he got into any trouble, apparently he liked to stay out after curfew with the horses; and what amusing little tidbits she could pass on, in respect for her friend and his big puppy dog eyes, Julia didn’t divulge. 

They were only halfway through and Alice was beginning to become uncomfortable. The plates were small...ish, thankfully, but this was more food than she usually ate and Alice knew that Margo was testing her. Just waiting for Alice to excuse herself and prove her right. Instead she took another drink of her wine and smiled to the High Queen. _Point to Margo_.

Alice was certain that the smoked turkey with a honey glaze was going to send her rushing to the toilet. It was small moments like this that she thanked the people in her SCA group. She had hoped to follow someone else’s lead to the facilities but no one moved. They were too wrapped up in their conversations and imbibing in the locally made wine. Josh served prosecco for the palate cleanser and Alice was certain that the gods had answered her prayers. It was also during this time that plates were removed and everyone rested before the second main course.

Alice had allowed herself to follow the lull in conversation at first thankful for reprieve. It was at this time that she discovered one of the reasons why Margo was called ‘the destroyer’. “So, Alice,” Margo smiled sweetly. “Curly-Q tells us that you are a European Medieval Historian. How fascinating!”

“Yes,” the blonde beamed.

“Yet, you had _never_ heard of Fillory before last week,” Margo took a delicate bite of blue cheese on a cracker. “I chalk it up to the American education system,” the High Queen gave a knowing look to her guests that all seemed to side with her, even Julia.

“Well, if it wasn’t for Grace Kelly then most of the world wouldn’t know that Monaco is its own territory. And seeing as that was over 50 years ago most still don’t.” It was a deflection but it was all Alice had. _Point to Alice_.

Margo’s bemused expression didn’t fade. “But… you have a Master’s degree. So, what’s your excuse?”

Alice looked down at her platter of cheeses, unable to touch them out of embarrassment. Before she could answer, Quentin came to her rescue. “Margo, you know very well that we’ve stayed off of the international stage. We also safeguard our collection of historical texts more than the Vatican. You can’t expect every country to have a course dedicated to us when we’ve only begun to come back.”

Margo graced Quentin’s hand sympathetically. “Oh, Curly-Q, I’m just having a bit of fun. I mean no disrespect.” Margo turned her wolfish gaze to Alice. “You didn’t take offence, did you dear?”

“No, your highness,” Alice said softly. _Point to Margo_.

“Besides,” Margo continued. “Can we really expect her to know that America’s beloved ‘Mac n Cheese’ came from us? Or that we invented the calculator? Or the first viewfinder video camera?” Margo was becoming absolutely giddy with presenting her passive aggressive jabs. “I mean, she’s even writing a _book_ about medieval religious practices and we were right in the path of the crusades,” Margo guffawed. Literally guffawed.

“Margo, that’s enough!” Quentin threw his napkin down on the table, his chair loudly scratching across the hardwood floors. All of the Fillorian guests had the audacity to look shocked by his actions. It wasn’t in Quentin’s nature to lose his temper and he surmised that he was still on fire from their earlier meeting. Blood rushed through Alice’s ears as Quentin broke protocol in speaking against Margo and she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Instead, Alice felt tears welling up but she tried her best to stamp them down, holding her head high. She was at a loss for words, again. It was middle school all over again and she still needed someone to save her.

Quentin was at her side, taking her limp hand in his and guiding her away from the table. Josh stood off to the corner an unreadable look on his face. Quentin thanked the chef and asked for doughnuts to be brought up to _their_ room. The stern look on Q’s face cut off any smart retort Margo may have devised.

\---

Alice undressed silently, getting into her Cubs tee, before Q snuggled her into bed. The doughnuts arrived shortly on a silver platter with a note. Given how quick they arrived it was obvious that this took precedent over the rest of the dinner. Quentin’s shoulders relaxed at the note and held the server to write something back. Kicking the door closed, once the reply had been written, Quentin crawled onto the bed presenting the silver platter to his girlfriend an empathetic smile on his face. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His oxford unbuttoned giving his neck room to relax.

A baker’s dozen was artfully stacked in a pyramid and though her curiosity was piqued on how he was able to make them so fast she decided to leave a little royal magic in the air. Tentatively she bit into one covered in chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles. The doughnut was warm and it caused the melted chocolate to smear on her fingers, cheeks, and nose. “I’m sorry about tonight.” Q curled Alice into his arms. “I thought…” he sighed. “I don’t know what I thought.” Alice quietly ate her doughnut, tearing off a small piece and feeding it to her boyfriend.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. The silence broke when Q licked chocolate from the corner of his girlfriend’s mouth. Alice slowly turned towards him, her mind trying to process what had just transpired, and was met with a look of a cat getting the cream. She had no time to react before he pounced pressing his mouth to hers stifling her giggles.

\---

Across the castle Margo was kneeling on her bed in a black and gold lingerie set trying to entice Josh to join her. “You know I don’t like being kept waiting, Guppy.”

Josh’s expression of disappointment was set in stone. The pet name wasn’t moving him. He was embarrassed and disappointed in his… whatever she was to him. “I’m not in the mood Margo.” He hadn’t moved from just inside the door of her expansive apartment.

Slinking off the bed she strutted her way over to him. “Are you saying you’re refusing a direct command from your Queen?”

“I’m saying that your behavior tonight was inexcusable.” He moved her hands away by the wrists as she tried to slide up against him.

Margo rolled her eyes dramatically and turned away from him. She grabbed a crystal decanter of wine and poured herself a glass. “I was just having some fun,” she pouted without remorse.

“No. You were out for blood and you got it.” Josh’s mood wasn’t letting up.

She shrugged a shoulder in indifference. “If she’s going to be Queen then she needs to be able to handle everything that comes to her.”

“Who said she’s going to be Queen?!”

“I did. Well, I told Quentin that he needs to propose or I’d find someone to take her place.” Margo gulped most of the drink down.

Josh considered her words before his face scrunched in annoyance. “You mean Eliot.”

“Ding, ding, ding! My guppy gets a prize!”

“Jesus, M! You know why they broke up. You can’t just force them to get married!”

Margo balked, “and why not? I’m High Queen.”

“And Eliot is High King,” Josh deadpanned. “Have you even talked to your better half about this?”

“Oh please,” she waved his concerns off. “Eliot would _love_ to have Quentin back.”

“But the constitution… You know what? No! _No_. I’m not getting in the middle of this. I’m telling you now this is not going to end up the way you want.”

“I’m trying to keep from that fucking Ess from staging a coup on Eliot and giving the western quadrant more power than they deserve!”

“How?! By giving them _more_ power?! By neglecting what the southern quadrant wants?” Josh took a calming breath. “I said I didn’t want to know and I don’t. So, leave me out of this.” He moved back to the door. “If you don’t actually need anything from me, then I’m going to spend the night in my quarters tonight.” Margo’s mouth dropped like a caught fish. _His_ quarters? _This_ was ‘his quarters’. “Yeah, my own quarters,” he always knew what she was thinking. “I love you, but the woman I saw tonight is not the person I know. When she decides to come back then I will too.”


	6. Chapter 6

Alice woke to the other side of the bed cooled with time. Checking her phone, she slept for hours longer than normal. Her head was stuffy with sleep and after rubbing the sleep from her eyes she noticed the large bouquet of yellow lilies on the chest at the end of the bed. There was a card sticking out and it had Quentin’s beautiful scrawl. Now his penmanship made sense.

_Vix,_

_I’ve gone to my mother’s this morning. It’s my hope that you two can meet before we go back to the States._

_I’m sorry about last night. If I had known I would never have subjected you to such treatment. I’ll be more careful going forward. I hope you enjoy the flowers, they won’t make up for last night but I promise it’s just a start._

_Rest and relax and I’ll come get you when I come back._

_-Q_

For as brilliantly as the sun shone into her room, the world around her went dark. Alice had been humiliated by Margo and she didn’t know if she had it in her to face Margo again. She just wanted to crawl into her research and write. She allowed herself the thought that holing herself up and working instead of reaching out was what had caused this. Maybe if Alice had shown some initiative and interest in the High Queen the dinner wouldn’t have been so disastrous.

Alice didn’t have the energy to get made up and be “presentable” for no one. She had done it all week to just bury herself in work. Sometimes Josh interrupted her with food and tea and other times it seemed like it just appeared. Really, if she needed anything it was at her fingertips like magic. Rationally she knew it was Josh. His title might be “chef” but it was apparent that he ran the place.

She made a phone call down to him and she could hear the sympathy in his voice. It felt good knowing that someone else besides Q was on her side about this. He told her to come down to the breakfast nook, and not to worry about getting dressed. The joke he made about Margo walking around in an indecent fashion all the time did not amuse Alice.

As Alice stumbled down towards the breakfast nook, all she wanted was a strong cup of coffee and a plate of bacon. It was amazing she wasn’t waddling from the previous night’s extravagant feast but she did suppose Q was the reason for that. The smell of coffee greeted her as she walked into the ‘small’ dining room. Pausing just inside the doorway to stretch a warm and dark voice welcomed her. Turning towards the sound, not yet registering what she heard she saw a very tall and very beautiful man sitting at the table sipping something out of a mug. Slowly blinking at him she tried to place his name and realized they had never met.

Eliot swung his legs off the long table standing in one graceful motion and took a couple steps towards Alice. “Allow me to introduce myself.” He took her hand in his, bowing at the waist to kiss her knuckles. “I am Eliot Waugh, High King the Spectacular of Fillory and leader of the West Quadrant.”

Alice knew she should have curtsied. She knew the proper etiquette. She did it for Margo. Instead, Alice let her gaze drift slowly up Eliot’s tall boots, slim hips, vested chest, beautiful cravat, and into his deep hazel eyes. She would later tell herself that what looked like her gaping at him was really her tipping her head back because her glasses had fallen to the tip of her nose.

His smile was as beautiful as his eyes and it held a secret mirth behind it. “I see my reputation precedes me.” Not letting go of her hand he led her back to the table and sat himself, crossing his legs at the knees. “Let me have a look at what our Quentin brought home.” Releasing her hand he twirled his finger in a circle indicating for her to do the same.

Alice’s Cubs tee had been lost somewhere in her room and believing that no one would see her she had thrown on a cami and shorts that left nothing to the imagination. The undivided attention he gave her was what made her shiver and not the December air. Her shorts hugged her hips and the cami ruched slightly up her stomach. Her saving grace was the large robe that she could hide within, but all it did when opened was accentuate her curves.

“Very nice,” Eliot praised and motioned to the seat next to him. “Please, join me.” Without taking his eyes off her, his fingers flicked for a waiting servant to attend them.

It was the reprieve that Alice needed to fix herself; trying to will the flush on her cheeks to dissipate. Loosely she closed her robe around her and sat where he directed. The servants appeared with an empty plate and silverware, freshly pressed pear juice, and a mug of coffee; her original destination. The servants scattered before she could tell them what she wanted.

Eliot waved her off. “You’ve been here long enough that I’m sure Josh has it all under control. You just needed to show up!” He chuckled. “Please, drink up, I’m sure it’s what you came down here for anyway,” he drawled. Silently Alice raised her mug to him and he continued to sip on his. The alcohol hit her as soon as the hot liquid touched her tongue. She was very proud of herself for not choking on it. Eliot beamed. “Do you like it? It’s called an Irish Winter. I know it gets me out of bed every morning!”

“It’s uhm… it’s unexpected-“ Eliot tilted his head towards her curious to see where she would go. “ly. Unexpectedly delicious.”

Eliot slapped his knee and threw his head back with a laugh. “I knew it! Mixology is a bit of a hobby of mine,” his hand flourished with pride.

Maybe what Alice needed was to get drunk. It would certainly dull the pain of the past evening. After taking another hearty swig of his ‘Irish Winter’ she noticed a plate full of bacon in front of her. _How did they do that?!_ Was she just getting used to them or was it actual magic?

Eliot raised an eyebrow at her dish. “Someone had a night last night.”

Alice tilted her head in innocence, “I don’t know…” at Eliot’s insistent silence she realized he had heard about it. “So, you know.”

He shrugged a shoulder, “It’s a small country and when you’re the leader…” his hands opened illustrating his point. “Besides, Bambi can be a jealous cunt. I love her but she’s deeply flawed.” Alice’s eyes went wide at the insulting word. Eliot wasn’t phased. “Oh, I forgot about American sensibilities. You don’t like that term. It means nothing to Europeans.” He passed her a carafe of syrup. Gingerly she poured herself some into a bowl to dip her bacon in. She was really wishing Josh had brought her out some eggs or toast so she looked like she had some semblance of a healthy diet. 

Eliot snapped his fingers and a server mixed him another Irish Winter. “Top her off too,” he instructed. Alice was about to protest but thought it best not to. “So… Did Q make it better last night?” Eliot prodded jovially. 

Swallowing thickly, “I’m sorry?”

“Well, whenever Bambi and I got into a row Q knew how to make it all better.” Eliot brazenly winked. Alice’s eyes fluttered as she tried to think of what Eliot could be referring to. Then it dawned on her. _Fuck_. She inwardly groaned at her pun.

“He always did this cute little thing where he would have a bottle of red waiting and my bong packed and then we would just… go at it like rabbits.” Eliot pulled out a slim case from his pocket and produced a nicely hand rolled cigarette. Lighting it, he took a drag, letting the smoke just _emanate_ from him. How did he do that? Eliot commanded everything he came in contact with; servants, guests, _fucking smoke_ ! Eliot was continuing as if they were old friends. “Always making sure to allow some vice indulgence, no judgement from him, and then he just makes you _feel good_. Right?” Eliot sighed, “I remember when the country shipped ‘Queliot’. I guess they’ll be shipping you two now. What will they call you? Alten? Qualice?” He shrugged a shoulder, indifferent. 

Alice’s thoughts swirled, the alcohol was hitting her, the smell of smoke was intoxicating, but she couldn’t grab onto a single thought. The doughnuts, the hour long foreplay, it was his… _move_ . And he had done it with others, namely Eliot. And Eliot was calling him ‘Q’. Was that why he was okay with Alice calling him that because _Eliot_ used that name? Alice didn’t hear the door open or the servants greet their King. 

“Q-Bert!” Eliot stood as smoothly now as he had before his arms opened wide for a hug.

“Eliot… you’re back.” Quentin stepped into the hug, not yet seeing his girlfriend’s face.

“Well, Milan was getting drab and Bambi said I ‘needed’,” he used air quotes, “to come back. And look who I found when I did!” Eliot beamed. He acted like he had truly done nothing wrong.

Quentin hesitantly turned his attention to his girlfriend and immediately knew something was wrong. “Vi-Alice?” He wasn’t about to use that name in front of his ex-boyfriend. “Are you okay?” He knelt down to below her level, giving her more importance. He tried to thread his hand through her hair to comfort her but she rebuffed him with her own.

“I’m fine!” She snapped. When Alice got mad she got shrill. Alice’s anger was something a person did not want to toy with. She had been quick to anger when she was younger and had worked so hard on not doing that anymore but right now she felt like everything was crashing down around her. “I’m going to my room.” It was the possession that stung Quentin most. He let her go, knowing it would be best to let her cool off.

“What the _fuck_ , Eliot?!” was the last thing Alice heard.

\---

“What were you _thinking_ talking to her about ‘Queliot’?” Quentin dragged both hands through his hair. 

Eliot donned innocence like it was an ensemble. “What? I thought she knew!”

“Bullshit!” Quentin continued to pace. 

“What? I really did! We spent five years together, Q. _Five years_. You can’t just hide that. But seeing as you ran off to America there’s a lot that you’ve been hiding.” Eliot continued to smoke, now for stress relief. Quentin was harshing his buzz.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m _here_ aren’t I? And don’t think you’re changing the subject. I heard what you said about vices. That was _one time_ Eliot.” Quentin held up his index finger to Eliot’s face in defiance. “And you were an asshole about it, so I never did it again.”

With a stub of his cigarette, Eliot sighed. “Fine. I crossed a line. Margo told me what happened last night and I wanted to see how Debbie Harry measured up. Who knew she’d be some Thai food I might like to try.” Quentin looked at his ex-boyfriend disgusted. “What? That’s a compliment!” Giving a resigned sigh, Eliot stepped up to Quentin and smoothed out his exes hair, his hands resting on the lapels of Q’s jacket. “I’m sorry Q-Bert. I’ll go apologize, okay?”

Eliot could always do that to Quentin. Just, take over. Put on a calm voice and make a sincere comment and then expect everything to be okay. It was one of the reasons why Quentin had stayed with him for so long. Eliot had the ability to make big transgressions seem so inconsequential. When his father had passed, Quentin found himself in Eliot’s arms for comfort. He wanted his father’s death to be inconsequential. He wasn’t ready for the pain. It was the following morning that he realized he was falling into old patterns and Eliot was letting him. Part of the reason he ran to America was that he needed distance and clarity when it came to Eliot. 

“No. I need to take care of this. Just… let me go.” The finality in his tone had all the seriousness of the guillotine. It was meant to be loaded. Eliot was married, and had been, even if local laws allowed for multiple spouses it didn’t negate the fact that Quentin didn’t love Eliot anymore. That chapter in his life was done. No more hiding under the plum trees making out, or playing hooky on their lessons to lay in the peach orchard. Quentin was moving on and he needed Eliot to do the same. 


	7. Chapter 7

Alice’s suitcase laid open and empty on the bed, with her sitting next to it. The robe she had so brazenly left open allowing Eliot to flagrantly leer at her was now tightly closed. Mentally, she was berating herself for being so stupid. All men have “moves”. _Everyone_ has moves. Humans are creatures of habit. Considering there are seven billion of them in the world it’s safe to assume that if a ‘move’ comforted one person it would comfort another. Why was she letting herself be naive? 

Quentin’s signature knock broke through her thoughts. Had it only been two weeks since he last knocked on her door? Why did their time in Chicago seem like a lifetime ago? “What Quentin?” her voice was poignant and shrill. Alice was giving no fucks this morning.

“I came to see how you’re doing,” his bashful tone allowed her to see _her_ Q through the royal facade. 

“I’m fine.” Alice was most assuredly _not_ fine and Quentin said as much. He slid smoothly into the room, easing next to her on the bed, her suitcase a barrier between them. “How could you not tell me, Quentin?!” She burst. It was the way she said his name. Quen. Tin. almost like she had momentarily forgot his full name. And really? Up until two weeks ago, she thought his full name was ‘Quen’. 

He flinched at the question. Fillory had always prided itself on its social progressiveness. If it didn’t hurt another person without consent, then who could judge? He had long known, even in Europe, about bi invisibility and was always nervous about releasing his sexuality status for fear of reactions just like this. “I know… I should have told you about Eliot…”

“Eliot?!” Alice screeched, practically leaping off the bed. “You think I’m upset about _Eliot_ ?! I could give a flying fuck about you being bi! Kady is bi! Why would I care about your sexuality if I don’t care about my best friend’s?! I _care_ about you keeping _all of this_ ” She motioned wildly around the room to indicate the more grandiose environment surrounding them, “from me.” Alice began to pace and chew on her fingernails with enthusiasm. “I mean… you’re a _king_ for fucks sake! You’ve lived a life of luxury and privilege that only the rest of the entire world could _imagine_ . After a _year_ you tell me and I can’t figure out why you thought _now_ was the best time! What? Was your store a _hobby_ ? Was all the times you offered to work for my dad out of _pity_?”

Quentin watched her pace and eat her fingers and scream at him. His mousy girlfriend, who would rather suffer with a drink she didn’t want than to tell the Starbucks barista that they got her order wrong, was letting out what insinuated to be a lot of pent up emotions. It wasn’t just last night’s dinner or the disastrous meeting with Eliot. She hadn’t fully processed on what it meant to be his girlfriend. She was looking at him expectantly. Why was she looking at him like that? He was certain the fear that he had blanked out on what had said, which was _very important and he should have been listening to_ , was showing on his face. “I’m sorry…” he knew it was best to just come clean. “What did you ask?”

Quentin wasn’t prepared for the sadness that filled her eyes. “I asked if any of it was real.” She was feeling defeated. His thoughts overcoming her words were proving to her that he wasn’t taking her seriously.

“Yes, of course it was!” he countered quickly. He was over to her in two quick strides, hoping she would let him get close. “Everything I told you was real and it was the truth. I just… I didn’t tell you the circumstances surrounding it. I didn’t tell you that the high school I went to was a boarding school, but I did grow up in a small town. It’s where I was today!” he pressed on quickly. “My parents thought it best that I didn’t grow up here. The scar on my knee is really from falling off my bike when I was seven and not some fencing accident.” It was a lame joke, but a smile started to crack on Alice’s face. It wasn’t much but it was a start. 

“Alice, I love you. I could say that not telling you about this killed me or that I wanted you to love me for me and not my crown; but, that would be bullshit. I was so happy to not tell anyone about my position; and I could care less if someone loved me because of my title because I wouldn’t love them. I lied about my name, yes. I am so sorry for that. I can tell you that it was because I was grieving and I wanted to escape, and it would be true. But it doesn’t excuse what I did.” His words were going a mile a minute and he stumbled over every other one. Gone was the confident ruler he had become in the past few days with his insecure mundane personality coming to the forefront.

“Please… will you… Nope.” He stopped himself. Quentin looked around, his eyes searching, before a light bulb went off in his head. Holding her arms he maneuvered her to the gold armchair, instructing her to wait before he dashed out of the room. 

There was a large crash that made Alice start towards it to make sure her boyfriend was okay. _Yep, I still love him,_ she thought begrudgingly.

Q appeared with a large metal broadsword, shaking his long locks away from his face. “I’ll get the maids to fix it,” he brushed off half joking. Alice settled back into her seat and Quentin took a large calming breath before squaring his shoulders. Moving with militaristic precision he stopped two steps before her. Plating the tip of the sword into the carpet before taking a knee, he looked unwavering into her eyes. “Alice Quinn daughter of Chicagoland,” he began. “My words have wronged you and caused you undue pain and suffering. For that, I beg most humbly of your forgiveness.” He bent his head in shame. “I am not worthy of a second chance but if you were to find it in your heart to grant my one request then I make this solemn vow to never harm you again. If,” his eyes soft and pensive, “you have found that I have betrayed this oath then I will gladly find myself upon my blade.” _What was the point in being a king if you couldn’t act like a knight to your medieval historian girlfriend?_ Quentin thought ruefully.

Alice pressed her back against the upholstered splat, her arms flat against the armrests. She considered what he had just performed thoughtfully. He was appealing to her geeky side and without irony. _I mean, what was the point in being a king if you couldn’t act like a knight to make reparations?_ she thought ruefully. “Your words show a humbleness and wisdom that many twice your age would fail to grasp. I accept your oath on the basis of the forthrightness you have shown today. Your decisions were based on emotion over logic; however, given the man I have come to know and love, it is your emotional acumen that impresses me most of all.” Taking the sword out of his hands, she held it firm to her side. “Arise Lord Quentin the Kind, Sovereign King of Fillory.” Dutifully he followed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Consider your apology accepted and your soul forgiven.” Alice smiled for the first time in a long time, her eyes crinkling with glee. “I love you, Q” she whispered.

“I love you, Vix,” he whispered back before sweeping her into his arms kissing her passionately. 

The weight of the sword against his back kept his hormones moderated. Reluctantly he pulled away, “but,” he promised her, “I have a surprise.” Taking ownership of the sword back, he returned it to the area outside of her room. “Call Kady, and ask her what she packed for you to go on a snowy horseback ride in.”

\---

After all of the commotion that had transpired, it wasn’t until Alice walked outside that she realized that it had snowed. It was the first snowfall of the season. Kady had dressed her in a mid-length forest green wool coat with faux fur sable colored trim. On their Skype call it was hard for Alice to believe that Q hadn’t given her any plans for their trip. It was harder to figure out how Kady knew what to pack at all. “Lace,” she pointed out, “I thought to myself ‘what would a European king do to make an American girl feel like a queen?’ and went from there.” Alice was a genius with books but Kady was a genius when it came to the world.

It had been since Girl Scout camp over a decade prior that Alice had been on a horse. But, like bikes, one never forgot how to ride. Alice’s knowledge of the Hanoverian breed was ample indication that she was a ‘horse girl’ when younger. The chestnut pair were incredibly well trained and took to the snow beautifully. Her mare always stayed a head behind, like she knew of Quentin’s rank, as he lead them into the pear orchard. 

“You know, these two are part of the oldest bloodline in Europe,” he threw to her. “It wasn’t until not very long ago that we started training them for leisure. They were our carriage and farm horses.”

“They are beautiful. I never knew you could ride.”

He shrugged bashfully, “I came to America as a boy for a ‘Junior Cowboy’ camp. I wanted to be a ‘real american cowboy’. I hated it.” Quentin laughed heartily. “I can ride, rope, hogtie and all in that order!”

“That sounds wonderful. My experiences with horses were through the Girl Scouts. One week in the summer I got to ride every day.”

“Well, for as long as you’re here, Fernweh will be available to you. Our citizens have cars but that’s really just go to Switzerland or Germany or Austria. When I take you through the cities, you’ll see that most walk or ride or some have a carriage for Sunday mass.” 

Fernweh knew who to follow and did so dutifully that Alice could focus on the world around her. The pear trees were generations old, the trunks gnarled with age but the snow was so thick on the bare branches that they looked as if they were in full bloom. The mountains spanned for the eye to see their peaks disappearing into the crowd. Quentin’s voice broke through her thoughts and she saw a small cabin a distance before them. 

It wasn’t anything grand, bigger than a two car garage but not by much. There was smoke coming from the chimney so this had to be something he had in the works. A log cabin just wouldn’t have a fire going all day and night. When they arrived, he helped her off her horse and hitched them outside with a troth of food and water. The soreness in her thighs after their small ride woke her up to how much time she spent in her books and research. For as quaint as the outside of the cabin was, the inside was modern with indoor plumbing, electricity and gas. The fireplace was wood fashioned and a TV hung on the wall while there was a bed across from the kitchen. The rest of the cabin was furnished appropriately for no more than two guests at a time.

“Was this a hunting lodge?” Alice asked curiously.

“Something like that. I turned it into a makeshift apartment. This is where I go when I want to get away. And, usually, I never want to be in the main house.

“So… why bring me here? I don’t want to intrude.”

Q sighed, taking her hands in his. “Because I want us to be Vix and Q again. It feels like so long ago since I last made you pancakes. I thought I would make you some lunch and we could binge watch Star Trek Discovery. I don’t have anything to do and I know you’ve sent in your weekly pages so…” He trailed off, a hopeful smile on his face.

Alice bit her lip, pondering if they really could just go back to where they used to be. It was worth it just to try. Nodding and smiling she acquiesced. 

\---

Quentin delivered on his promise. It was just like old times. Q even cooked dinner for her. But since they had begun in the afternoon it was the middle of the night when everything was finished. Alice’s head in Quentin’s lap as he massaged her temples. She hummed with pleasure. “That feels nice… But what about the horses?” 

Q softly snickered. “That took a right turn. They are fine, someone came and got them hours ago. They’ll be back tomorrow when we leave.”

Alice’s brow furrowed in sleepy confusion. Lifting herself up onto her hands, she tried to look at him but without her glasses he was just a blob somewhere in front of her. “What do you mean someone came and got them?”

He hushed her softly. “Don’t worry about it,” he soothed kissing her forehead. “But, I think we should get to bed.” 

“But… we need the horses…” 

He maneuvered her onto her feet, and she leaned heavily into his side in response. “Or we just go to bed here.” And like magic, Q deposited Alice onto the cabin’s bed. 

“Where did this come from?” She rubbed her hands over the thick comforter, “feels nice.”

Quentin just smiled. “Do you want something to change into?”

Alice’s cognitive function for problem solving had checked out for the evening. She didn’t even have the brain power to ask why he would have a change of clothes for her. Instead, she just shook her head no.

Standing before her Q instructed her to lift her arms and she did without hesitation. Systematically he undressed her and folded the clothes neatly in the dresser. The weekend bags he brought had a change of clothes and pajamas and toiletries if necessary. After tucking his very sleepy girlfriend into bed he followed suit. He thanked the gods that his plan had gone smoothly. Sliding an arm across Alice’s waist he reveled in how well she fit as his little spoon. From the moment they had first napped together, before doing anything untoward, it felt like perfection. He could stay in this cabin, with her, just being shut-ins. 

He had no idea what lay in store for him when he got back and at this moment he didn’t care. West Loria could go fuck themselves. Take over the Sovereign Queen throne and take his as well. He could abdicate and give it to his cousin or let the North Quadrant elect a new king _or_ Queen. He was never a policy guy and he didn’t want to be. But he did want to make sure his subjects were taken care of. He also needed to figure out what Margo’s angle was. Anyone who didn’t think she always had three plays was dead on arrival. Burying his face into Alice’s neck he breathed deeply wishing for the sun to take its time rising the next morning.


	8. Chapter 8

The getaway to the cabin refreshed Alice more than she realized. The normalcy of the actions reset her brain in many ways. Most importantly, being that she was able to see Quentin as she had before the 

revelation of his actual identity. It made things easier when he had to disappear, yet again, for unknown policy business. He explained that now that Eliot was back, the things that he had been dealing with could be finalized. Even though he was the Sovereign King he could not dictate policy. His voice counted as support and to essentially break the tie between Eliot and Margo. Normally, the two were on the same wavelength but sometimes Eliot’s passiveness and Margo’s aggressiveness were on the opposite side.

“Well, can I watch?”

“Parliament can’t even watch,” Quentin said annoyed. “But… I have something better.” Taking her hand, he led her through weaving hallways of the chateau, hallways she had yet to see. This part looked older. It was still in wonderful shape but it was obvious it wasn’t open to visitors or public viewing. The artwork that hung on the walls was not just of portraits or important battles but of families and landscapes. The styles were more nuanced and artistic liberties were utilized. There was pottery and jewelry in cases and armor and weaponry hung with identifying plaques. Alice could spend hours just looking at each item; cataloging, drawing, and archiving them.

Distractedly, Alice didn’t realize Quentin had stopped before a large set of double doors. She stopped a hair’s breadth away from pummeling into him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the den and I think it’s time that you got an upgrade.” He smirked looking over his shoulder. He opened the doors at the same time, similar to what he did for the throne room. Alice concluded that he did this because he wanted to impress her. But just like the throne room she was not at all prepared for what was before her. She thought the den was large but the palace library was huge. The doorway opened to a landing that separated to either side with a staircase leading up and down. The two storied room had bookshelves lining the walls and the ascending stairs lead to a walkway separating the two levels. From the landing she could see shelves, ten feet tall, evenly lined up like dominoes and in the distance she heard… water?

“The library was started by the Sovereign King Hans Joseph in 1351 and he set out to collect every manuscript he could get his hands on. Many of the tomes haven’t been seen in hundreds of years due to book burnings and censorship.” He led her down the stairs as he spoke. “We don’t go by the Dewey system because of the fragility of a lot of the manuscripts.” Upon closer inspection Alice saw many of the books in what looked like hard plastic cases. “But we have a very detailed card catalog to find anything.” 

As they moved through the stacks the sound of water got louder and the room became much brighter. When the stacks ended the large area opened up into an enclosed courtyard. There was a water treatment with lush foliage around it and the walls and ceiling extended past the stone into a glass structure. Immediately Alice felt concern for the books but then realized that was what the hard cases were for. The atmosphere wasn’t humid and they weren’t in a greenhouse but it was comfortable even with the snow outside. There wasn’t any ice or snow on any of the glass so they must be heated.

“And of course, no one knows the card catalog better than Zelda. Hello Zelda.” Quentin smiled at the woman behind the desk in between the stone room and the interior courtyard.

“Good day, your majesty.” The tall woman, dressed in a pantalon jumpsuit curtsied deeply. Her hands were held up to her shoulders as if she was afraid to touch anything or that anyone would touch her. She looked at Alice through her spectacles assessing her. “And this must be Alice,” she smiled thinly holding out her hand for a shake. Which Alice returned quickly. Zelda wasn’t a mean or upset woman. She seemed very… precise. The library was kept immaculately and Alice could only imagine that was Zelda’s doing alone. 

“Alice is doing research on our country for an addition to her upcoming book. While I can give her stories I know she needs sources. Could you please help her while I… um…”

“Handle the State’s affairs,” Zelda offered helpfully.

“Yes,” Quentin sighed anxiously. He kissed Alice on the cheek and told her he would see her at dinner. 

Zelda looked at Alice expectantly. Alice did not think she was ever going to get used to that. Stunned she stammered through her request for texts on religious practices in medieval times. Zelda walked her over to the card catalog and pulled out several resources. “Because many of these are original sources, there are some precautions you’ll have to take,” Zelda instructed. At the tables in the courtyard there were stands that allowed the book to be open but not flat as to protect the binding and white linen gloves were a necessity. Zelda, for organizational purposes, asked that Alice only take three at a time. Alice nodded absentmindedly as Zelda studied the scholar. She tapped the cards in her hands, “I’ll make a log of these for the next time you visit.” 

Confused, Alice began to protest. “No, I would like to see them now,” but Zelda had moved on to another drawer. 

“Mmmhmm,” she mused. “And you will. But are you sure you wouldn’t like to read...” She found the card and pulled it out with a flourish before handing it over. “This one first?”

It was a diary. Not just any diary but Engela the Sovereign Queen of the South Quadrant’s diary. Alice’s mouth hung open. Something like this even _existed_? But… how did Zelda know? “I would… like to read this very much,” Alice whispered. 

Zelda gave a firm nod before leading her back to one particular bookshelf. It was in the darkest corner and all of the books were their own cases. “This was Engela’s personal library. She left it to her daughter who left it to hers and so on down the line. They were the first books added when we opened The Library. She was not only a woman who could read and write but she was a teacher of many subjects. Some of the first books our printers produced were hers and you’d be hard pressed to find anyone in the country without a version of one of her books. The most popular being her ‘cookbooks’ and abridged versions of her diaries.” Zelda pulled three cases off of the shelf and handed them Alice.

“But… aren’t these written in Fillorian?” Alice didn’t really know how to read Fillorian. She had figured that it might have been a dialect of medieval German used in court but even what she had translated from the books in the Den were missing large swaths of translations because she just _didn’t know_ the language.

“Yes,” Zelda acquiesced. “But, you’ll find that Engela wrote in a fashion that transcends language. Similar to that of A Clockwork Orange. But, I do have modern copies in English if you would prefer.”

“No!” Alice bit her bottom lip at her vitriolic reaction. “No, that won’t be necessary. I am assuming that most of these would be written in Fillorian or some sort of _Mittelhochdeutsch_. I am familiar with the latter and it’s my hope that I could derive Fillorian from that.”

Zelda’s smile this time was easy. “Like I said, you’ll find her writings to be more... transcendent than anyone else of the period.” Zelda escorted her back to the courtyard and produced a new pair of gloves for Alice to use. “If you get hungry, just let me know and we’ll get the kitchen to make you something. But, before the food can be brought in, these will have to go back.”

\---

Alice became enmeshed in the books Zelda had given her. Beside her sat a stack of paper with notes scribbled all over them. Mostly it was to clarify what certain words were but Zelda was correct in her assertion that Engela’s writings were transcendent. They transcended the language barrier from a millennia away. She wondered if the modern printed versions were so eloquent as what she held in her hands. Alice had begun with a recipe book. It was filled with poultices and salves and tonics to cure all sorts of ailments. Alice soon took up two reading stands because the second book was an almanac of flora and fauna in the area. Drawings covered the pages and she was able to translate a lot of the recipes from this almanac. She couldn’t hold a conversation but the vocabulary was beginning to reveal itself like a secret language. Once you had the cipher anything could be solved. Fillorian was Germanic in nature, like English, and it had grammar basis in Latin, also like English. Alice would have to get confirmation of the pronunciations but she was finding it hard to believe that it would be a guttural language like German or French. 

A conversation broke Alice’s concentration. Given the proximity of the Library to the rest of the castle, she had been under the impression that this was not a place where many people gathered. Looking to the sound she found Zelda conversing with Josh, who was holding a covered silver platter, and a young woman she had never seen before. She wasn’t a servant, her clothes were too fine for that. She was dressed in a red plaid flannel skirt and a soft wool sweater. Her face was soft and had an innocent quality about it. She was engaged with the discussion but not involved. Zelda’s voice came into focus, “I’m sorry but unless she ordered it, you cannot just waltz in here. I appreciate the sentiment but the books are too precious and precautions _must_ be made.”

Josh rolled his eyes, “it’s not like I’m serving something from the smokehouse. It’s a sandwich and chips and an apple. Quentin said that she would appreciate it. I can’t go against the word of _King Quentin_ now can I?” There was a mischievous tone to the way he said Quentin’s name. Q did say they had known each other for a long time, and even if Josh was in the employ of the crown the friendship surpassed any class barriers. 

* * *

* * *

Zelda’s hands clenched and her lips pursed, “fine.” She called out to Alice who pretended to be engrossed in her notes before her. “Alice, would you care for something to eat?”

“Um… what time is it?”

“It’s a quarter after three.”

It had been hours since she had eaten. Her stomach growled her response. “Yes, that would be nice, thank you. Let me put the books away first…” Alice stood gathering her notes to organize the work space.

“Oh! Let me help you,” the young girl said. Helping with Alice’s papers she introduced herself as Fen, wife to High King Eliot. Alice immediately dropped a clumsy curtsy, unsure of protocol in meeting the High King’s wife. Fen giggled, “oh you don’t curtsey to me. I’m married into the throne but I’m not actually a royal.” Fen was happily blase about the situation. “It’s finally nice to put a face to a name.”

Carefully placing the books in their respective cases, Alice faltered. “Oh… I wasn’t aware that I was being spoken about.”

Fen’s tinkling laugh came back. “Oh, please. Quentin has been gone for a year and he comes back with a girlfriend? I assure you, you are the topic at every smithing circle.”

“Smithing circle?” 

“Oh yes! Didn’t Quentin tell you? Everyone here smiths _something_. Gold, silver, steel, we make jewelry, chain mail, and weapons. My father is a weaponsmith. His specialty is knives.” Fen’s eyes lit up at the mention of knives. Everyone has to have a hobby Alice figured. “But there are groups that get together, similar to sewing circles and quilting bees. We just… make metal!”

“That’s really interesting. And you’re Fillorian?” Alice pressed.

“Yep! Born and raised.”

“Sorry to interrupt this introduction ladies, but I have a kitchen to get back to. Where would you like this?” he asked Alice.

Noting Zelda’s apprehension, Alice pointed to a table and chairs on the other side of the water treatment. A change of desk would be nice as she began to feel the burn of not moving for hours in her thighs.

Once all of the books were put away to Zelda’s satisfaction Fen and Alice made their way to the lunch Josh had prepared. He was right that the food was simple but oh so delicious. The potato chips were obviously hand cut and fried, and the sandwich was a chicken caesar club; sun dried tomatoes, shredded chicken, shaved Parmesan, with crisped pancetta and a house made dressing on a freshly made baguette. How was Margo a size zero with Josh as a chef? It was all so baffling. Josh neglected to announce, but she was certain Zelda didn’t miss, the white wine that accompanied the meal. 

Alice found Fen to be a very nice conversationalist. Fen wasn’t simple or impaired; she was naive. Fen grew up in a small village of West Loria. Her mother passed away when she was very young, leaving only her father to raise her. She learned of traditional female roles from her peers in school and at home she learned her father’s trade. Given the modernization of the world around them and changing viewpoints it was unclear at first if she would marry into the royal family and if not then a trade would be necessary. 

“So, you went to school with Eliot?” Alice asked.

“Oh no! They didn’t go to the schools here,” Fen explained. The schools in Fillory were similar to charter schools in America. For the first five years they got a primary education and from there they began their grooming for their vocation. Most stayed within what was called the _Realschule_ program as it was closely tied to practical applications of their vocations. Others, if they tested well, and it was apparent that they did not have an aptitude for the family trade went to _Berufsmittelschule_. That was what Fen attended. She was perfectly fine and even wanted to stay in _Realschule_ but given what had been arranged that wasn’t possible. “My father taught me our trade and legacies still matter. So, just because I have a bachelor’s degree, that didn’t mean I couldn’t take up the forge if I wanted to.”

“What is your degree in?” Alice asked, trying not to moan at the Caesar sauce of her sandwich.

“Materials Engineering!” Fen beamed. “I wasn’t allowed to get a vocational degree so I got a bachelor’s degree in metallurgy.”

Alice blinked. She had completely misjudged the woman in front of her. “That’s _ingenious_!” Fen shrugged her shoulders modestly. “So did you go to college with Eliot then?”

“Yeah! So, they all went to Institute Le Rosey. They’re kind of grandfathered in with the admissions considering their political status. And then we all went to Brakebills University.”

“I’ve never heard of Brakebills.”

“Yeah, no one has really. It’s by ‘invitation’ only.” Fen rolled her eyes at that one. She never understood the secrecy behind it. It wasn’t anything really special. Fen set her fork down pondering for a moment, “would you like to see my village?”

“Really?” Alice’s breath quickened with nerves. She would get to see something other than the palace grounds. If she had asked Q then he would have had everything set up instantly. Alice just felt like she was imposing if she asked for anything because of everything that was being granted to her as a guest. “I would love to.”

“Awesome! We’ll go tomorrow.” Alice let Fen dominate the rest of the conversation by asking her how their modern practices of metallurgy compared to those from centuries ago. Who knew that there was so much to the art form? It became very apparent very quickly that this was a subject that Fen could talk for years on without stopping. Alice learned about all of the different kinds of blades there were in the world and what they were used for, why Fillorian steel was the best in all of Europe, and how historians routinely misunderstand the history of weaponry and ignore what is right in front of their noses. That last one stung, but weaponry wasn’t Alice’s forte so she was happy to learn more.

\---

On the other end of the castle the three royals were going through the tedious process of organizing the Christmas festivities. Margo was a little too invested in the details; Eliot was granting everything Margo was suggesting, even if it was contradictory; and Quentin was annoyed with the entire thing. He scratched his forehead like he always did when he was trying to figure out why he was being bothered with something that should be a non-issue. “Margo, why don’t you just get the committee to do it? Why are _we_ discussing this?”

“Because they do the same tired crap every year,” Margo deadpanned. “I want something… _special_ . Don’t _you_ want something _special_ Curly Q?” Margo goaded with a secret smile.

Quentin tried to answer, he really did, but this coyness she was employing was just draining. He looked to Eliot for some sort of clarification and he was met with his ex-boyfriend lounging in the chair. One of his long legs hooked over the armrest, his crown tilted haphazardly upon his head (Margo insisted that when they got together for meetings such as these they wear their respected regalia), and suggestively eating a peach. Where did he get a peach in December?! Eliot sucked the juice off of his thumb, not at all paying attention to the conversation going on around him.

Dragging his hands down his face Q pressed the tips of his middle fingers into the groove just above his eye socket in a feeble attempt to alleviate his oncoming headache. After taking a few calming breaths he looked Margo directly in the eye and told her, “quit the shit, ‘Go.” He never called her that anymore. It was his childhood nickname for her because when he first started to speak he couldn’t say her name fully. He only used it now when he needed to communicate how dire things were. “Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Margo hesitated trying to decide if she should keep up the current charade. In good faith she decided it best to tell him everything. Sighing, she made her way over to Eliot’s throne and shoved his hooked leg off with her hip. “Okay, so I haven’t exactly been straight with you.” Quentin responded wordlessly with a ‘ya think?!’ look. “It’s true that West Loria is threatening a coup,” she spared an angry glance at Eliot for not keeping his territory in line, but Eliot wasn’t grasping the gravitas of the situation. “They do want to institute their own Sovereign Queen unless…” Margo fluttered her hands for him to finish. Quentin wasn’t going to give in so easily, he couldn't even begin to imagine what she had promised the West Lorians but no matter what it was he knew he wasn’t going to like it.

Margo’s face scrunched in exasperation “unless you get married!” Margo stood up hastily moving down the steps to the parliament floor, her embroidered overcoat brushing the ground as she moved towards him. “The West Lorians have given us an ultimatum.” Her wrath was still evident but it was obvious she was restraining herself. Her anger wasn’t directed towards him but she wasn’t happy with his obstinance. “They want you to marry and institute your bride as the new Sovereign Queen.” Margo mistook Quentin’s silence as compliance. “They don’t care _who_ you marry, just that you _do_.”

“How does me marrying someone institute a new queen?! Let alone the fact that us positioning someone there goes against _centuries_ of policy!”

The coronation rules of Fillory were quite eloquent. The High King and High Queen could not be wed and their respective spouses couldn’t assume the lower throne as it would create an imbalance in power. However, the sovereign king and queen could be married as they could stand as a united front when there was a disagreement in policy between the high thrones. Marrying Alice would make things easy, but marrying Eliot… It would be marrying Eliot but the power would lie in his arrangement with Eliot’s wife Fen. If Quentin married Eliot then it would allow for Fen to take the position of Queen. The incestuous knot of the thruple marriage would secure all positions and shore up the power divide. Because even though Fen couldn’t take Queen simply by marrying Eliot, there was nothing saying she couldn’t take Queen if Eliot was married to Quentin at the same time. On the surface it looked like Eliot would be more influential when in reality if his husband and wife were the sovereign thrones it would solidify the checks and balances as it would be two against one.

“For one thing, desperate times call for desperate measures. And second we can coronate Alice or you can marry Eliot and put Fen in place! Either way it’s a fucking win for us and those West Lorians can keep sucking their own dicks.”

“Hey!” Eliot’s mild annoyance about his territory came out.

Margo looked at him over her shoulder with disgust. “If you had done _your goddamn job_ then those insolent insects wouldn’t be a problem, now would they?” Eliot would have responded by she was right. Instead he continued to eat his peach.

Quentin rested on the ledge of the front pew, his mind trying to catch up with all of the details. “So… that’s why you wanted me to come back. That’s why you wanted Alice here.” He looked at her with his big brown eyes. He was always the most sensitive of the three.

Margo was loathed to show physical affection to anyone but when it came to her _family_ no one could tear her from them. Placing soothing hands on either side of his head she ran her fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important. Our lives, our _kingdom_ , rest on your shoulders. I’ve done everything I can to shelter you from shit like this. If I could, I would let you live in America for the rest of your life. But that’s not the fucking world we live in. So tuck your dick and pull up your big girl panties; we got work to do.”


	9. Chapter 9

The following day found Quentin walking Alice to the library, hand in hand, and parting with a kiss on the landing. He had been quiet the night before just wanting to go to sleep and that morning equally preoccupied. Alice had checked out more books of Engela’s and Fen had provided a key to help with translating. But Zelda was correct, Engela’s work was enthralling and the key had fallen to the wayside with Alice fully engrossed in the work. The diary she was reading was right before her coronation. Engela talked about her Yule preparations and dreams she was interpreting as divine intervention. She felt warned about a call of a higher purpose on earth. One she was apprehensive to take.

_The Western King visited last morrow bringing his parade of attendants and offering physical wealth. I entertained him as necessary. Though my land borders upon his he is not_ _my_ _king. We have no king. My kinsmen enjoy their freedom and their ability to voice their opinion. Individual thought is what separates us from the cattle we raise. He queried about my happiness and if I would not feel more suited to a higher position. One above my countrymen._

_During his visit, the king mocked me so artfully that I could only return the favor. He spoke of how my prolific expertise has spread throughout his kingdom. He said that after three yearly cycles his wife had yet to produce a child. He asked for a potion to make her fertile. I smiled at him and assured that no potion was necessary. The cure I gifted was but a phrase! Astounded he begged for my gift. With my smile still firm on my lips I proclaimed ‘lay with your wife and not your valet’. His painted face ashed like winter’s snow. Men believe that they are opaque when they are more translucent than water. I imagine in less than a year’s time there will be a babe._

The king must have been Eliot’s ancestor. Engela’s description matched Eliot and fit with the story Quentin had told her. Before she could continue Fen announced her presence. “Are you ready to go?” She was dressed similarly to the day before but she had a heavy floor length lavender cloak over her shoulders. There was a girl, possibly a lady in waiting (Alice had yet to see any of those during her time here), standing behind her.

Alice regarded her thoughtfully. “Go where?”

“To my village silly!” Fen was slipping on a beautiful pair of cloak matching leather gloves. For a tomboy, Alice mused, she fit very well into the fashionable realm. Kady would love to meet this girl. Honestly, Kady might fall in love with this girl.

“I’m not… I’m not dressed.” Alice protested weakly. She had just started this diary and the stories about the founding royalty were pulling her in. She wondered if these had been printed so she could read them in bed. Trying to sneak this copy out would get her hanged by Zelda herself.

“Oh you don’t need anything special. I’m sure what you have is fine.” From Margo the sentiment would be considered an insult. From Fen, all Alice could read was sincerity.

Zelda, still not trusting Alice, offered to put everything away and within an hour’s time the two were off to a little village to the west. They went by car and for all of the rolling landscape of mountains and forests surrounding the palace grounds, once they were removed from that scenery a bustling modern city came into view. Fen explained that the palace was kept in a very particular way and had always been that way. With the exception of late fall and early spring the grounds were open for citizens and tourists. The royals kept both a residence at the Palace and in their respective quadrants. There was more vehicle traffic than Alice was prepared for.

“Quentin said that most people walk or take a carriage.”

Fen smiled, “Yeah, out in the villages sure! But, in the capital? _Pfft_ . Many people have to drive in because they live tens of miles away. We may be small but we’re not _that_ small.”

Alice was embarrassed by what she thought she would see. The way Q had described everything was that they were almost devoid of modern technology. Everywhere she looked, someone had a phone or a tablet or a computer. Women were in business suits traveling from one place to another and there were messengers on bikes weaving through the traffic. It wasn’t Chicago but she surmised it might be closer to Columbus or Indianapolis. It was amazing how secluded the world was within the palace walls. The tinted windows allowed for anonymity but the car still carried the royal seal and pedestrians watched them go by trying to figure out who was in the car. 

\---

Quentin sulked on the couch of Eliot’s waiting chamber. Eliot, wanting to be a good friend, kept him company and plied him with lots of alcohol. Handing his friend another drink he sat next to Quentin with an arm over the back of the couch, careful not to purposefully touch. “It doesn’t have to be as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Eliot chided.

Quentin refused to look at his ex-boyfriend. Instead he blindly drank what he was handed. It was brown and filled with bourbon. Quentin couldn’t identify any other ingredients. Instead of answering, he stared at a portrait across the room. Some impressionist piece that had been there for god knows how long. How did he get in this room again? Right. He wanted to confront Eliot. See if Eliot had any part in Margo’s grand scheme. 

_Eliot had been surprised but happy to see his old friend. He opened the door dressed scantily in just a robe. Quentin made sure to keep eye contact on Eliot’s face or somewhere else in the room. Thankfully, Eliot changed shortly after Quentin had arrived. Breakfast sat half eaten in the sitting room. There was an almost empty champagne bottle to go with the almost empty orange juice. Quentin sniffed at the coffee pot, hoping for something to be in there. He recoiled at the stench of Eliot’s ‘famous’ Irish Winter._

_Eliot emerged with a flourish and before he could offer Quentin something to drink Quentin pounced with his question. “Was it you? Did_ **_you_ ** _think of this?” Quentin wanted to be angry but exhaustion rimmed his eyes._

_Eliot softened knowing how emotional Quentin could get. “No, it wasn’t. But, in the name of honesty, I didn’t outright say no to it.”_

_“No shit, El.” Quentin hadn’t used that nickname in quite some time. It just rolled off his tongue. “How could you? I am_ **_happy_ ** _.”_

_Eliot put his hands up in surrender. “I think we need some morning cocktails. No one ever does anything while day drinking, so I think we’re safe there.” Which was true. Day drinking generally led to naps which led to waking up to go out and night drinking. And night drinking led to trouble._

And now Quentin was on his third bourbon cocktail. Were there cherries at the bottom? Hell, maybe it was just bourbon with cherries at this point.

“Have you two even discussed it?” Eliot asked with sincerity. 

Quentin paused. He wanted to continue to grow his alcoholic buzz but he also wanted to give his ex the silent treatment. If he didn’t speak then Eliot would kick him out and then he would be forced to drink alone and he hated drinking alone. But speaking to Eliot might give him the illusion that he was okay with what was going on and he was most certainly _not_. The latter won out. He took a healthy gulp and said “sort of. Not really.”

“So that’s a no,” Eliot drawled. “Look. Q. You can’t hide this. And from what I hear, your Madam Curie is researching up a storm in our library.” Eliot always spoke with a bored grace. Someone who knew all the answers but would only give them to you if he felt like it. For all his eccentricities Eliot was much smarter than anyone gave him credit for. More importantly, than he allowed himself the credit. It was like being smart was taboo. But he would drop words of wisdom out of left field that wouldn’t hit you until the next morning. And by that time? He’d forgotten he’d ever spoken to you. “You’ve secluded her away. But how long is that going to last? If _you_ don’t tell her, then someone _else_ will. And what do you think is going to happen _then_?” 

\---

Fen complained about the traffic in the city until they got through it. It took all of maybe twenty minutes. If Fen complained about twenty minutes of traffic she was in for a world of hurt if she ever came to Chicago. The rest of the drive was what Alice had imagined. Three hundred and sixty degrees of picturesque scenery. Rolling hills, snow capped mountains, and people on bikes sharing the empty road. As they neared town the road began to disappear into dirt or cobblestone. There were modern homes in the area but most of the residences were centuries old. Alice had spotted Tudor-style buildings both residential and commercial. It wasn’t the _faux_ -Tudor that many American apartment complexes liked to emulate. No, these had truly been standing for half a century. 

It was a Friday, at Christmas time, and the village was packed. Alice remembered to let the driver open the door for her. She was a guest of the Sovereign King and she needed to remember that. Fen led the way and Alice had to almost skip to keep up. Even though she was the wife of the High King, and it afforded her all of the protections of the crown, Fen wasn’t royalty. Her presence wasn’t announced and no one moved to make a path for her. It looked like she didn’t mind one bit because Fen didn’t like special treatment. After entering the throng of the busy town center Alice realized Quentin was correct. There were many tourists here. She could hear languages from French and Italian to English and Japanese! 

“Well, where would you like to go first?” Fen asked brightly. Standing next to the royal consort Alice was all sharp edges from her clothing to her hair and makeup. She reeked of “big city”. Fen, for all her metallurgy and tomboyishness was soft and delicate. She was quick to smile where Alice was guarded. Alice knew how well documented the understanding of life outside your class was elusive, but Fen didn’t grow up wealthy. She fully expected and intended to enter a trade instead of marrying into the royal family. She grew up with one foot in two different environments. 

“I haven’t bought any Christmas presents yet. I just know that if I come home empty handed I won’t hear the end of it.” 

“Oh I’m sure Quentin doesn’t care,” Fen brushed off. _Quentin_ , Alice thought. She hadn’t been thinking of her boyfriend. What did you get a person like him anyway?

“Yes, but I also have my father and friends to think about,” Alice supplied gently.

“Do they like knives?!” Fen asked excitedly. “I can get you the best knives!”

It took Alice a moment to think about how best to respond to that. She settled on “I’m not sure customs would like me bringing weapons into the country. Let’s see if we can find something else first.”

Fen nodded empathetically before leading Alice directly into the square. There were carolers, and the sweet smells of baked goods, and merchants singing their wares. It was almost as if she had traveled back in time. The snow had been shoveled off to the side to prevent any accidents and the cobblestones had been worn to evenness from time. It was an incredibly different experience than shopping on Michigan Avenue. Back home everyone would be rushing from place to place, sour moods everywhere, people bitching about traffic or the weather or other people. Here everyone was laughing and smiling. Some were indulging in confectionery delights; and, tourists and natives snapped pictures of the scenery and themselves. Alice could just sit in the middle of everything and just… watch. 

It didn’t take long for Fen to be recognized and Alice realized that their driver was also their security guard. Seeing as this was her home, no one outside of the locals knew truly who she was. But, it didn’t stop some of the school aged girls from stopping her for a selfie. Fen was gracious to them and stopped for a fun selfie every time she was asked. Unlike many celebrities, Fen wasn’t satisfied with one group picture to be shared. No, she took an individual picture with whomever wanted one. Alice left her to her growing fan club that tittered to each other in Fillorian. 

Alice explored the little shops, making sure to keep Fen in sight. Even if she had her phone, she wasn’t sure if she could even use it or get a hold of anyone to come rescue her. Fen wasn’t kidding, they really did smith everything in her town. She had met the coppersmith who she bought a beautiful tea kettle from for her father. Then there was the glass blower who made amazing beads. Shockingly they were sold by the kilogram and not by piece. Alice bought several bags for Kady. Though she didn’t stop at the goldsmith, it didn’t stop her from seeing him give her peculiarly knowing look. Before Alice could make it to the chocolatier she heard Fen call her name. 

Fen was a bit out of breath, Alice supposed the heavy cloak hindered her ability to run free. “It looks like you found some things!” Fen gripped her waist taking deep breaths. Alice was almost concerned. 

“Oh, yes. I found a few nice gifts. How was meeting your fans?” Alice wasn’t being passive aggressive. She truly wasn’t.

“Oh… them.” Fen waved them off. The blonde tried not to be startled by the consort’s blase response. “They are the siblings of people I went to school with. Nice kids really. But I wouldn’t call them my ‘fans’.” Fen chuckled. “If you and Quentin take things further, you’ll have to be prepared for the same.” _The same?_ Alice blinked rapidly at the notion. Images filtered through her brain of a royal wedding in an open carriage and pedestrians along the street throwing flower petals at them. “Are you ready for lunch though?” Fen asked without mentioning Alice’s silence.

Alice simply nodded in response. 

Fen led them through the square and to the other side where their car was waiting for them. Their driver/security guard took Alice’s bags from them. Fen’s homestead was on several acres of land. None of it was farmed for either livestock or crops. The lush green grass was covered in a blanket of pristine white snow. The house was modest but the barn was massive. There were a couple of vans in a makeshift parking lot and black smoke billowed from the two chimneys. The barn had to be at least two stories. A man, blackened with soot and sweat sauntered out towards them and Fen didn’t wait for her door to be opened. She burst into a run and was quickly swept up in his arms. 

Fen’s father was a large and bulky man. His stature was built over the years of smithing weapons and various metals. His callouses of his hands looked like they were tattooed with the soot and grease from his trade. He wore no jacket over his coveralls, the winter chill a welcomed relief from the hot forge. He tried his best to keep the dirt from maring the lavender wool but it was obvious that his daughter could care less. Fen’s legs swung from side to side and the pair’s grins split their faces into two. Alice felt a twang of envy at their bond. Ever since Stephanie _left_ … Daniel had withdrawn from life. Alice could see echoes of herself and her father and could only hope they might find happiness without her mother. 

“Alice, may I present to you my father Lars. Lars, this is Quentin’s girlfriend Alice.” Fen explained something in Fillorian and Alice could only decipher the meaning from the word ‘Chicagoland’. Lars bowed at the waist and Alice was quick to stop him.

“Oh, no, no! I’m just his girlfriend. I’m not royalty or anything. Just an American,” she giggled nervously.

“Ah! American!” Lars smiled, “I like Americans. They know quality.” He was discussing his business. She would certainly pass on his information to her local SCA chapter because she knew they would be more than happy to buy his wares. “Come. I show you around.”

The barn was a forge and Lars was the master of this atelier. He employed a dozen people of all levels from apprentice to journeymen. The pride of his work and business shone brighter than the fires all around them. He spoke in Fillorian while Fen translated with just as much enthusiasm. Several systems were in place from one person crafting a single piece to an assembly style pace. The clanging of metal rang through Alice’s head and when they made it out to the other side she welcomed the peace nature brought. 

Lunch was simple and hearty. Bread with root vegetable and meat stew. Fen and her father regaled Alice with tales of Fen’s childhood. The home, though just the two of them, was filled with warmth and laughter. Alice talked about growing up in “the ‘burbs” and how massive Chicago and the entire country of America was. Lars asked how quick it would get from Chicago to New York. Everyone knew about New York. His bafflement of how planes were almost required because driving would take much too long was welcomed to Alice. She found herself falling into instructor mode and teaching the two of them about geography and a little bit of history. Lars asked so many questions and Alice accepted them without hesitation or judgement. She made sure to steer clear of politics both American and Fillorian though.

The only stumble came when she asked Fen if she ever did ‘The Sound of Music’ twirl in her backyard. Fen looked at her with blank eyes which caused Alice to explain and when no recognition from Fen came, Alice over explained until both Lars and Fen burst out laughing. Apparently, it was quite common for people all over this region to see Americans twirling and spinning like Julie Andrews attempting to sing. Alice was briefly glad she forgot to do it herself before the snow came. She would have been mortified to know that the servants and most definitely Margo would have had a laugh at her expense. 

Prior to lunch, Fen had changed into something much more comfortable. Heavy jeans and leather boots and a leather vest over a thin wool sweater. It left Alice feeling overdressed and more like the royal. Fen took them on a stroll through the neighboring woods, but never too far from sight from the homestead. She knew the rules even if Alice didn’t. “So, what was dating Eliot like?” It was a question that burned in Alice’s brain from almost the moment she met the High King. For as charming and flirtatious as he was she had a very solid suspicion that he wasn’t interested in women.

“All for show.” It was the nonchalant tone that Fen took that surprised Alice the most. “I mean… It wasn’t totally for show, but it was obvious that I wouldn’t have been his first choice.” 

“And who…?” Alice tried to not be so obvious, she really did. But Chicago had very large gay scene and it didn’t take Fen’s look of the obvious to know the answer. “Sorry…” she finished meekly. 

Fen, in all her good nature, waved it off. “I mean, we’re friends. We wanted that. We wanted to be friends at the very least; and, we are. I don’t think I’ll ever be as close to him as Margo or Quentin, but we’re closer than people think. Our dates were for the press and the society circles. What was surprising to me was how Eliot _wanted_ to follow tradition. He followed all of the protocols. Like, we had a chaperone at first; he asked for my father’s blessing; and, he even proposed in a spectacular fashion.” Fen sighed at the memory. Eliot proposed in the summer while they were camping on the riverfront. Eliot might seem particular on many things but he felt comfortable sharing his guilty pleasure with his now wife. They had been fishing and when Fen turned around to get something from the trailer she found him on one knee. He was honest with the possibility that he was going to be a shit husband but he wanted to try to make her happy. He didn’t want to have separate estates like his parents. He promised to try the best he could to make her happy because neither of them chose to walk this path in the first place but he wanted them to choose to walk it together. She tearfully accepted and he kissed her. Truly kissed her. 

* * *

* * *

But, she didn’t elaborate on all of that. All the world got to see was a picture of the two of them on instagram. Eliot kissing her tear stained cheek and Fen’s outstretched hand modeling the Consort’s Diamond on her finger. “We even share a bed. We have our estate in this quadrant and then our rooms in the palace. I have my own room where all of my state regalia is, but we sleep in the same bed. I think he’s gotten used to me.” Fen shrugged a shoulder, “at least, I think he has considering how tightly he holds me when he falls asleep.”

“Are you happy?” The question was out faster than Alice could think about stopping it. Sometimes her mouth was too much.

Fen laughed softly taking it in stride. “We’re not conventional, but everyday I find myself surprised at how satisfying my life is.” The two climbed over the uneven path before getting to a gazebo like structure. The wood was left unpainted but sealed and it was just behind the treeline. It was a hunting hut. Even in winter sounds of life echoed off of the mountain range. “What about you and Quentin? Any plans to get married?”

Alice should be used to the question, but ever since her arrival no one broached the subject. It was like there was a moratorium on it. She wasn’t sure if everyone was just expecting her privacy or if Q had ordered them not to. It was a strange thing thinking of Q commanding an entire country. “Should I expect questions like that from the press?”

Fen gave a sharp chuckle, “if only they were that tame. They will ask you anything and everything they can try and get you to answer.” She leaned over the railing, “my advice is to learn to keep quiet. The less you give them, the better. Our press isn’t bad but if you go anywhere else who knows who they are it’s a thousand times worse.”

“So… what should I do?”

“Get a job,” Fen supplied helpfully.

“Y-you have a job?” Alice’s mind began whirring again.

“Of course, silly! I’m the Prime Minister of the Western Quadrant. Each quadrant is made up of different municipalities. The largest municipality being West Loria that is a long strip along the western border that has territory in three out of the four quadrants.” 

“So… you _run_ the Western Quadrant? What about Eliot? I thought…?” Alice was gobsmacked. This girl, who was the same age as she, ran an entire territory. Fen surprised her at every turn.

“He’s the High King and holds the principality of the WQ.” The way she pronounced the letters was steeped in her native language. _Vwee Coo_. “If he wasn’t married then he would run the affairs of both. But, seeing as I’m his wife, I am able to step into the role if I wish. Now, I run the Quadrant but we have parliamentary representatives. It’s like… if I were the governor of Illinois and Eliot were the president. Then the members of parliament is like the senators of the US Congress. Each village has a representative that reports to me. So like a state congress!” 

Alice knew her mouth was hanging open. Fen knew about American _politics_ ? Not just politics but how the government was run. She even knew that Chicago was a city _in_ Illinois and not its own state! Embarrassingly, Alice was pretty sure that many Americans didn’t even know _that_. “How…?”

Fen smirked and swung against the railing, the tension in her arms keeping her upright. “Everyone has that oddball hobby. Mine is knowing the different governments around the world.” Fen waved her hands in an attempt to clear the air. “My point is, keep your job. It will keep you sane. Because you might, someday, be apart of this world but don’t let it consume you. Like Americans we love our individuality.”

Given their late lunch and the shortened days, it would be dark before the pair returned. Even though there wasn’t an official curfew Fen knew Eliot would be waiting for her and could only assume Quentin would do the same for Alice. Lars, upon their departure, presented Alice with a beautifully carved wooden box. “I make for you,” he said hesitantly. 

Opening the box she found a glistening metal dagger. The hilt was a beautiful swirl of blues to match her eyes.

“My daughter says that you are a historian,” Fen translated for her father. “So, please, accept this replica of the Magician Queen’s athame.”

“The Magician Queen? Do you mean, Engela?” 

Lars nodded enthusiastically, Fen continued to translate. “My family has been making knives since before her reign and we made what she used in her personal practice. That blade was made in the same fashion, materials and all, as the great southern sovereign.”

“It is _beautiful_. I will cherish it always. Thank you.” Alice closed the lid and held it to her chest in a show of affection. 

\---

Christmas was fast approaching and the palace was becoming more and more of a hotbed of activity. When Fen and Alice arrived back, one of the footmen presented Alice with a note from Quentin. He was preemptively apologizing for his diminished appearance. He would hope to see her in the evenings but asked that she not wait up for him. And because she did as he requested she never felt him get into or leave her bed. 

A phone call to her editor asked her why she was working so much. It was the holidays. Take advantage of everything around her. Since, she was caught up on what she was supposed to do, Alice found herself in the library, with Zelda, away from everyone and everything else caught up in Engela’s books. Josh made sure she never went without sustenance and the one-sided playful banter brought a lovely reprieve to her reading. 

_A visitor came to me today. New to our region only setting up his stead a few moons ago. His trade is cattle - meat and cream. When first we met he came to me with nothing to offer but beggars words for the lives of his animals. One had fallen ill and the fear it would spread was so tangible. He separated it from the herd but he hadn’t the heart to slit its throat._

_I walked with him to his farm and met the creature’s eyes. Oh, what pain I found in those deep dark pools. She was surely gone and had no voice to beg for mercy. I could not tell you the ailment but that was not the source. I gave him a sweet salve. One to spread on his hands so she may lick it. I stayed with him throughout the night. His cow’s head in his lap, its labored breathing easing before taking its last. He cried as he said goodnight. A true student of husbandry my visitor was. The love for his animals palpable and a source of great pride._

_Since that night he has gifted me with cream and cheese and curds and dried meats. Every cycle of the moon he gifts me with a new token. He sells his creations at the market and all the merchants say that there is none like what he produces. His flock are under my protection as long as the goddess may grant such a wish. In their eyes I see him. In their curds I taste the care. At the market I am drawn to him._

_This evening he bestowed his presence upon me. He gifted me with flowers of his garden. Seeds from the north where he had come. We spoke of many things and he professed his love. He kissed me so sweetly. He knew of what rumors floated abound of my honor. He cared to hear none nor did he care the truth of them. He left with only Diana’s gaze to guide him home. Oh, to Her I prayed to guide him home safely. I do not think I have ever prayed for something so small so fiercely in all my days. I think that I may love him just as much as he loves me._

This was part of the story Q had told her. So simple and elegant. Alice’s heart clenched at the image of the man mourning his cow. He had probably a hundred in total but his dedication to each was so admirable. The people of Engela’s South Quadrant read as sturdy folk. A force not to be reckoned with and probably why they were able to keep their way of life when the monarchy was established.

Alice waited up for her evasive boyfriend that evening. She didn’t care how late he came in. He stumbled in around two in the morning, stinking like bourbon. The Quen she knew never got drunk. Who was he getting drunk with? Was he meeting with statesmen? Should she have been there? The slobbery kiss to her cheek broke her concentration. “Why aren’t you asleep young lady?” His brown eyes drooped with exhaustion and intoxication. He fumbled with his shirt buttons and after only mastering a few moved to taking off his shoes while standing. He successfully liberated one to the other end of the room. 

“Q… Where have you been? I have barely seen you all week!”

Uncerimonally, he plopped to the bed and removed his second shoe, failing to send it to its mate. “With mah co’orts. Mah curts. Coohorts.”

“You mean Margo and Eliot.”

Quentin snapped his fingers and pointed at no one in front of them. “Yur s’smert.” 

“Have they had you drinking like this every night?” Alice asked confused. She was beginning to understand one of the reasons why he came to America. 

Quen nodded inspecting a still buttoned button. 

“Why?” Alice scrunched her nose in confusion.

“Extravaganza!” The word came out just above a whisper. He lengthened the vowels and swept his arms wide in correlation before falling plank straight onto the pillow and releasing a long and deep snore. 

\---

This was not Q. He didn’t stay up all night drinking and getting up early and sneaking out of her bed. He made her breakfast and made sure she showered when stress was starting to take over. She saw the change slowly over take him, but she thought it was simply respect for his position. But, ever since Eliot came home… _Eliot_. Alice had tried asking him about it, but all he would only say was ‘it’s in the past’. She tried to broach it with Fen but Fen replied that she wouldn’t be the one to ask. Alice wondered if he was falling into another depressive episode. She didn’t check to see if he brought his medication or not and now she had to keep from chiding herself about guilt that didn’t belong to her. 

Alice had expected Q to be gone in the morning and so she set her alarm to vibrate to catch him. When it woke her, she saw he had barely moved at all. Most of his clothes had found their way off, but that damned button was still clinging on for dear life. She forced herself back to bed and was silently grateful to find that he was still asleep when she fully woke up. Alice contemplated if last night was the climax of the week. If they spent all day and night drinking and only resting in the form of naps until they collapsed only because it was their body’s way of preventing alcohol poisoning. Was this really Q’s life before her? 

She sat at the dinette set of the Gold Room dressed in a robe and her cubs tee. Her bare legs were crossed at the knee as she sipped strong non-alcoholic coffee and caught up on the news of the day on her tablet as Quentin began to stir awake.

His body dragged up, with his head last to rise and once it peaked fell to the other side. He took in his state of dress, or lack thereof, and asked aloud to no one “Where’s my pants?”

“The maid took them.” Alice kept her composure cool.

Q’s head whipped around at the sound of her voice and he instantly regretted it. He groaned in pain, breathing heavy in a feeble attempt to combat the nasty hangover. “When?”

“About an hour ago.” Alice continued to sip without so much as offering him any.

“An hour…?” He muttered, “An hour?!” he shouted and then almost doubled due to the volume of his own voice.

“I have… I have to go…” Quentin searched for what Alice assumed was his clothes but she knew he wouldn’t find them.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Alice had worked so hard to be an open and welcoming person. The first thing she tried to change was the tone she was currently employing. It was like the strictest school marm anyone could imagine. Secretly, it gave Alice a sense of pride when she invoked it. “You’re going to sit and eat and drink some coffee and we’re going to have a discussion.”

Quentin swallowed the bile that threatened to rise at the sound of food. “Vix…” Quentin did _not_ like the look Alice shot at him at the nickname. “Alice.” Now was not the time to win her over with cuteness. “What’s wrong?” He shuffled over with one sock missing, flopping into the vacant chair. 

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I haven’t seen you in almost a week, and the first time I do you come home so drunk you pass out and in the few lucid moments admit that you’ve been like this this whole week! This isn’t the Q I know. This isn’t my boyfriend.” Alice banged her index finger at each pronoun for emphasis. “I want you to sober up and I want to know what’s going on. And High Queen Margo can bang this door down all she wants but she’s still gonna have to get through me.” Alice had found herself rising out of her chair along with her voice. Her arms pointing every which way until landing against her own chest. Her ice blue eyes burned with fire and compassion. This had been a nice holiday and she had learned a lot. But mostly, the man she came here with was becoming a facsimile of the person she knew and if this was how the rest of the trip was going to go then maybe it was time to go home. She had wanted to go home out of defeat against Margo. Now? She was fearing for her and Q’s own sanity. 

But, she still kept that as a last resort. Even if Q wasn’t happier outwardly, his insomnia was practically gone, he didn’t just pick at his food or try to survive on tostitos and salsa, and his appearance was showing self-care. This was his _home_. The last thing Alice wanted to do was rip it away from him. But, something was bugging him and had been since before they came and she was tired of tiptoeing around it.

How could Quentin possibly explain that the largest province of their country was threatening war if he didn’t get married? “Look…” Q sighed. “A lot is happening right now. This is the biggest time of the year for my country. There is a huge Christmas and Yule celebration that we have to get ready for and with parliament being gone it lands on the three of us to handle policy. Things that are usually decided amongst dozens of people now have to be decided by three.”

“What could possibly be so dire that it causes you to get drunk every night?” Alice dragged her hands through her hair as she got up from her seat and started to pace. “Who are you? This is not the man I fell in love with!”

Quentin sipped his coffee. How could he possibly tell her that she was the center of it all? He couldn’t outright lie and say she wasn’t part of it because if the information got back to her then that would cause more problems. But he couldn’t tell her she was part of it without revealing everything and possibly forcing her into a situation she wasn’t ready for; and, maybe she didn’t want. That last caveat hurt his heart. It was the age old story where the movie viewer just screams at the protagonist to ‘tell her! She’ll understand!’ It’s easy to say when you’re not the thick of it. Instead he said “you’re right.” 

He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes with one hand. “This is who I used to pretend to be. Eliot and Margo and I grew up together. I always felt like I was on the outside looking in. It didn’t matter much when we were kids and I had Julia to escape with. But, secondary came and then college. Julia went her own way and El and ‘Go were a year ahead and established in a way. So… to _fit in_ I just did what they did.” It was the truth, but knowing how Alice would chew on all of that information, he said it to manipulate her off of everything else. He wasn’t proud of it but it was all he could think of. 

“They aren’t bad, Vix… They’re just more extroverted than I am. I would hide in plain sight during all of the house parties they threw. They’re just happy to see me. They’re happy to have me back.” _Even if I won’t be going back to America_. Oh the sheer amount of willpower that had to be utilized to keep that from being said was just as draining as his hangover. He could feel the tension in the room easing ever so slightly. That was a very good sign. The couple had been at odds more during this trip than their entire time together. Quentin knew he was to blame.

“I don’t like…” Alice knew she was going to have to open up and she did not like that. She hated discussing her feelings. That was what Q did for her though, allowed her to feel and express herself in ways that were healthy even if it made her uncomfortable. “I don’t like being hidden away.”

“But… I thought you _liked_ the library.” As soon as he said it, he knew that it was wrong. Of course she liked the library! But that wasn’t the point. Josh had even warned him this might come up.

_“Bro. I know I’ve got things wrapped up nice and neat over here, but unless you do the same then your little urban bird is going to be_ **_minty_ ** _.” Minty, the best way to describe when things were about to go to shit. Everything is fine until you start tasting mint._

“I swear it’s like the alcohol has robbed you of all your brain cells.” 

“I know! I’m sorry. I just meant… “ _Backpedal! Backpedal! Backpedal!_ His mind screamed. “It’s just that I know you’ll want to get involved with what is going on. You’ll want to help, but you _can’t_ help. Because there is literally nothing for you to do. And when you feel like you have nothing to do you get restless. When you get restless you get stressed and it just snowballs from there. But!” Quentin was standing and he tentatively made his way over to her, not touching her just yet. He learned the hard way not to enter her personal bubble without invitation. “Tonight is the start of the Christmas festivities. It’s nicknamed ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. Each of the twelve municipalities holds a celebration on their respective day. It kicks off tonight and tomorrow it officially starts. It ends on Christmas Eve; and, on Christmas Day there is a giant ball.”

“You mean… Like, an actual royal ball?” Disney princesses were a guilty pleasure of Alice’s. She knew every movie by heart and could sing any song at the drop of a hat.

Q smiled, “an actual royal ball.”

Alice chewed on her bottom lip until it was pink and swollen. That would mean two weeks of her still being here and she was missing her father. She made sure to call him every other day and he assured her that the store was fine, he was fine, everything was _fine_. She had been working basically non-stop to add Fillory to the outline and get as much of the newest chapters written. But, she wasn’t sure she could handle going out and partying every single day. For all her bravado she was completely an introvert. People saw her a certain way and so she let them put her in that peg. 

“I want you to be my guest tonight. We’ll go into the capitol and mingle with the people, eat amazing street food like _döner_ and _laugenbretzel…_ ”

“Isn’t that just a pretzel?”

“Oh my gosh no!” Q laughed, “It might look like a pretzel and smell like one and even taste like it, but it’s so much _better_ than you’ve ever had before. But, if you thought Josh’s cooking was good? There’s this little cart that has the best _germknödel_ . The story goes that this little cart isn’t just the oldest maker of _germknödel_ but that they _invented_ it.”

“You… you really like this time of year.” Alice took his hands into hers, lacing their fingers together.

“It’s my favorite,” he breathed.


	10. Chapter 10

Alice tried to get lunch that day, but Quentin was right. She didn’t like to admit that others were right. Especially if she was wrong. However, just trying to navigate her way to the small dining area or even the kitchen to get  _ something _ was treacherous. There were people  _ everywhere _ . She never knew there were so many in the employ of the Palace. Granted, most might just be seasonal help but everyone had a place to go and had something in their hands to take there. She clenched her hands in protest of asking to be of assistance. And if she thought the hallways were bad, then the kitchens were even worse. 

The Palace celebration wasn’t for another two weeks, why was everything so crazy? She found Josh in the middle of barking out orders. “Oh, that’s because this is ground zero,” he laughed. “I could really go for a toke right now, but knowing me I’ll switch things up and the streets will be filled with people having a very good time on the light display.” He was fiddling with a presentation seeing how he liked it before changing it three more times and then deciding the first way was the best way.

“But, I thought each province did something each night?” She tried to keep up, she really did. The food was looking so good but when she tried to grab a canape Josh’s hand darted out and gave it a smack. 

“If you want food, there’s a buffet in the casual dining hall. But everything in here,” he waved his hands wildly, “is for tonight. But, to answer your question, everything gets set up here. Then the municipalities take care of their own stuff. But, this is  _ go time _ . I mean it is the most important time of the year and there can’t be any mistakes. _ None _ .” The grave look in his eyes spoke volumes. “My advice? Stay in the library. You don’t want to be apart of this…  _ this _ !”

A loud crash whipped Josh around and he bellowed out someone’s name before disappearing in the throng. 

Thankfully the dining room was empty and she was able to make up a plate and take it back to her room. Since their somewhat argument, Quentin had disappeared again. He promised to stay sober and he would be back to pick her up for the festivities. But, until then he asked that she just relax and get ready. 

\---

At first Alice didn’t realize she was going to be a part of the whole thing. She thought that she might stand off in the wings of the platform and then walk around with Q, similar to how she went out with Fen. Because she didn’t know this festival was going to happen there was no way for Kady to have made something for her to wear. This made trying to find something to wear a nightmare. Thankfully, Fen had been so amazingly gracious to help pull something together. She had so many clothes that she wasn’t going to wear or even touch that it was easy to gift Alice with an ensemble. They settled on a full ice blue skirt that came down just past her knees. Fen remarked on how it matched Alice’s eyes perfectly. It was paired with a vintage style soft and fuzzy wool sweater that had a cascade of beaded blue snowflakes from the neckline. Alice’s normally straight hair was curled and pinned with blue snowflakes that glinted in the light. It was the second time her entire trip she had felt like she might belong among her hosts.

The parade began just outside of the capital city and there was a makeshift door hiding everyone from the crowds in a makeshift backstage. On the drive up, Q had explained that the celebration used to be on the Palace grounds and they would drive in from their respective quadrants. Since the capitol had become the center of the country, it was changed to them riding in. Sitting in the town car, Alice watched all of the acts warming and setting up before the start time. She thought about the conversation she had with Fen as they were getting ready. Fen asked Alice if she was prepared for the attention she was about to receive. Alice had marched in several parades before. She was a flutist for her marching band. She even got to march in the St Patrick’s Day parade in downtown Chicago. It was only now hitting her that the smile Fen gave her for encouragement didn’t reach her eyes.

There was a tap on the glass telling them that their spots were ready. They had been driven to the back so they wouldn’t distract the other performers. It was dark but the light from the parade route filtered over to them. They were close enough for Alice to hear the music from the bands in front of her and people on radios giving markers of the groups to make sure there wasn’t any congestion. She noticed there was to be a great distance between the carriages and the parade. The parade was filled with bands that played songs both religious and secular holiday songs, dancers with special choreographed routines, and where parades had become a very commercial affair in the states, most of the floats were of religious organizations. Faiths that claimed significance to this time of year were represented. There was a traveling nativity scene and a float representing St Lucia who was martyred for bringing food to persecuted Christians. This float threw candy to the crowds. There was a parade of European Santas, most notably the Greek Saint Nikolas, the Dutch Sinterklaas, the French Papa Noel, and the German Christkindl. There was even the American version. Alice didn’t begin to question if he had always been there or was there just for her. There was a viking display with a float that had a massive ship on it with Odin at the helm. 

The royal family came last in the parade procession. Each had their own carriage, Quentin and Alice rode first, followed by Eliot and Fen, and to close out the entire pageant was Margo by herself. Margo and Josh were an open secret at the palace but something closely guarded outside of the gates. Q explained that when they were younger they rode with their parents, then they had their own carriage. He didn’t specify whether him and Eliot rode together as a couple or not, and the tone of his voice didn’t lend to either answer. But, when Eliot and Fen started dating, and he was High King, they were the last of the carriages. It left Alice wondering if it was purely optics or if Margo wanted to be the showstopper that kept her as the finale. During her visit, even though Eliot was High King, they equally shared rank but she was definitely in charge. However, if that was due to Eliot being gone on his honeymoon wasn’t clear. 

A chill began to set into Alice’s skin. The carriages were convertible and portable space heaters that made things nice but not exactly comfortable. Across their laps was a thick flannel blanket and Alice was able to wear a silver wool coat that was an original Orloff design. This might just be the boost that Kady was waiting for. It was a logical assumption, look at how many people google Meghan Markle’s outfits each day.

She saw a parade tech waving his arm in a big circle, all of the previous acts had gone and the large wooden doors were closed, blocking out the noise and lights from those on stage. The carriage lurched gently and stopped just outside the doorway’s arc. Quentin grabbed her hand and beamed. “Are you ready?” Alice could only nod in response. Q knocked the railing of the carriage to signal the coachman to go. 

The giant wooden doors opened and the crowd before them went wild. Lights shone brightly at the opening, illuminating them for all of the crowd. There were speakers strategically placed that played the national anthem and other patriotic songs. Fen had taught her how to wave while remarking that she couldn’t stop. The instructions ran through Alice’s mind. Her arm would get really very tired, but to just think of it as the longest hand job she had ever given. Don’t wave from the shoulder but the wrist and keep it low so it can have something to rest on discreetly (which, she soon found was a little arm rest inside the carriage just for that). Switch hands when necessary but not to over do it. Don’t reach out to anyone enthusiastically, it shows favoritism, and it’s not that becoming. 

A ringing sounded through Alice’s head. All her years in marching band did not prepare her for this. In marching band she had something to focus on. She played songs and she had to have them memorized so she was constantly thinking of something other than the attention from the crowd. Alice was acutely aware there was no flute nor song to play to focus on. Her brain screamed at her to smile, and she did. It felt like hours but in reality only a few seconds. She prayed that she had been hidden in the shadows and no one would notice. Over the blanket, Quentin held her hand tight, giving her an anchor to hold onto. He was always her anchor. 

The carriage went ever so slow and after a few minutes she was ready to quit. Quentin muttered to her from his plastered smile to follow his lead. Through his motions he had taught her how to rest her arms intermittently by switching them or by turning different ways. It was like a dance. He told her to focus on something. She figured she could either focus on the sway of the carriage or the music from the speakers, and she tried to focus on those things, she really did! What she focused on instead were the amount of fan posters directed towards  _ her _ . Her  _ and _ Quentin. Eliot was right the name “Qualice” had taken off. It was an amalgamation of their names. Some were a collage of pictures taken from her own Instagram. 

Periodically he would whisper to her something that would make her blush or laugh and sometimes he would kiss her cheek or give her a chaste kiss on the lips. Not knowing his real motivation, and following his original direction to follow his lead, she would do the same. It wouldn’t be until later that she found out he was obfuscating her from people in the crowd with messages supporting his relationship with Eliot or even protesters from West Loria scattered about with messages like “Give Us The Throne!”. Fillory allowed their citizens their right to free speech and generally out of respect for everyone the population refrained from such negativity, but even in such times when the security council advised moving them to one place or even keeping them from the festivities, Margo was adamant that was not how their country had been run or would be in the future. 

The start of the parade had been outside of the capitol center and the awe that lit Alice’s face when they were brought to it was almost as bright as the decorations themselves. The opening ceremony of the Christmas season was magnificent. The city that Alice had seen a week before was transformed into a LED winter wonderland. Lights twinkled everywhere. Trees and buildings were covered in them. And while she was used to similar displays in Chicago there wasn’t an undertone of excess. It was a careful and respectful opulence. 

The carriage stopped at the center courtyard and opened to a platform. An emcee announced their names upon arrival. “Your Sovereign King, Quentin the Kind with his guest from Chicagoland in America, Alice Quinn!” Quentin stood fully in the carriage and gave the crowd a giant wave and they roared in response. Alice was not comfortable following suit, unsure of the balance of her car and chose to wave to the crowd while still seated. They were guided up a set of stairs to four thrones. They were replicas of those in the throne room. They were each painted similarly to the originals with a more modern flair. An assistant with a headset escorted Quentin to his throne and Alice to a seat behind and in between his and Margo’s. She was told not to sit and Quentin stood to the side of his throne. Upon passing the throne she saw a crown on the padded seat. It was  _ his _ crown. She had never seen his crown. She lived in the Gold Room and had investigated many pieces on display but the crowns were not something she had even thought to inquire about. 

Upon Eliot and Fen’s arrival, they chose to exit their carriage before giving their greetings to the crowd standing and waving for a few moments before the arrival of High Queen Margo. Fen had come from the opposite side and her seat was between Eliot and Margo. Fen had no crown because she had not been coronated. She was the High King’s consort. Along with posters of Quentin and Alice there were those in support of “Elfen”. Alice mimicked Fen’s stance holding her hands daintily in front of her. 

The largest response came with Margo’s arrival and she soaked up all of the attention. She was sitting on a platform that raised her above her carriage seat. Granted, Margo was short, but this was purely pomp. The people though did love her and she loved them. If Alice didn’t know any better, she would have believed Margo was everyone’s best friend given how she reacted to the crowd. Unlike the other two couples, there was no one to escort her up to her seat and that might be of her own design. Her throne was between Eliot and Quentin and Alice expected Margo to lead everyone to a seat like that of a judge in a courtroom. Instead, three children came up, two girls and a boy holding bouquets of flowers. 

The three royals turned in unison and plucked their crowns from their seats. They traded their crowns to the children for the bouquets. The bouquets were made up of the flowers of Fillory in beautiful colors that represented the season. The crowd hushed and giant televisions came to life televising the occupants of the podium. Margo, Eliot, and Quentin all knelt before the three children and bowed their heads. In an obviously practiced moment they raised the crowns above the adults heads but did not place them. Their tinkling voices rang through speakers from their lapel mics and the deeper tones of the adults following suit. Across the screen began words that Alice could only barely translate.

_ In the fallen darkness _ _   
_ _ With wisdom bold, _ _   
_ _ Grant me your kindness. _ _   
_ _ Keep my heart pure _ _   
_ _ and teach me the truth of my soul. _

_ I am beholden to that which I possess _ _   
_ _ and mournful for that which I am denied. _ _   
_ _ You have bestowed me with much _ _   
_ _ and refused me little. _ __   
_ For all that,  _ _   
_ __ You are blessed to that which is mine.

It was a prayer. It was from one of Engela’s journals. Winter celebrations from all over were all about rebirth. The sun has died and now begins its rebirth on the solstice. They were humbling themselves to their subjects. To Fillorians they were ordained by the people they led not from a deity. Eliot, Margo, and Quentin all looked up to the children holding their crowns on their last line. They were asking the future of their country for permission to continue to lead them. Telling them that their blessings were their people’s blessings. No matter how much they are granted it belongs to their citizens just as much. With a simple nod of their head in response the kids crowned their royals for another year. 

The crowd erupted into a cacophony giving their own approval. The three leaders smiled brightly at their charges and hugged them in gratitude. Once standing the sextuplet beckoned their gratitude to the crowd and then the children were ushered off still waving to their adoring fans. As Alice predicted, everyone waited for Margo to sit before they followed suit. On her chair she found a folded little program. 

_ Hey Alice! Josh here! So, I know you really don’t know the language even if you have your nose buried in The Journals every day. Since I have a few connections (ha ha!) I took the liberty of translating everything for you. There will be people who notice so be prepared to answer why. My advice? Just be your charming self. Have fun and see you back inside the walls! _

After the mini recoronation some of the parade acts came back to perform on a grander scale. It was like they were privy to a musical just about Christmas in Fillory. Margo and Eliot whispered amongst themselves and sometimes would turn back to Fen to share the joke. Q turned back exactly once to check on Alice. Other times his hand snaked back and she hooked her index finger with his pinky. It was evident that he could only put on a front for so long. Alice had long learned how to be his anchor as he was to her. Fen explained a few things as the program progressed but it was all so campy and Hallmark Channel Christmas wonderful to her. The end of the program brought the attention to Margo specifically. Flanked to the sides were translucent teleprompters so she could address the audience in full.

Alice hadn’t heard any of the three use Fillorian before. Going off with Fen was the first time she had heard it used and even then English was widely used. The sound rolled off of her tongue. It wasn’t flowery like French of Italian but it wasn’t guttural like modern German or Russian. It was like she was a lost nordic goddess that everyone worshiped. 

“Merry Christmas and Happy Yule to all! It warms my heart to look around and see so many of you here to celebrate the arrival of our holiday season. 

“Christmas. Yule. Winter Solstice. These are all words that carry great weight with them. They signify everyone’s hopes, dreams, and expectations for the new year. If you will indulge me for just a moment, I’d like to share what this year’s season means to me.”

_ “We love you High Queen Margo!” _ A rogue cheer called out.

Margo took it in amazing stride. The warmth and love radiated from their subjects and she took not one for granted. “I love you too!” she called back.

“This year has made me think most of what it means to be a family. Mine, my leaders, and yours. You all are my family. Without you, Fillory would not exist. Without you,  _ I _ would not exist. Family, to me, is the meaning of Christmas. As you know this celebration didn’t begin with us or even my parents. This celebration has only grown throughout the decades. Each year I looked forward to seeing all of my aunts and uncles, grandparents, and cousins. Friends I had made in school would visit and be awed not by how I lived but how much  _ love _ they could feel from you.  _ Oy vey _ the immigration requests! But it was always noisy and rambunctious. Laughing and fighting with these two,” she threw her thumbs behind her and elicited a laugh from them. 

“Playing games, telling stories, and of course presents.” Margo threw a wink aimed at the children. “I love everything about this time of year. Even the ugly orange knitted leg warmers that my Aunt Janet gave to me. You best believe that I showed up to the first dance class of the year rocking those things! They might have been ugly but they were a gift. They told a story. They made me grateful for everything in life that  _ you _ have blessed me with.

“This year has been a quiet one for me, but an adventurous one for my brothers-in-charge behind me. As you know we united High King Eliot and Fen of West Loria,” the emphasis on ‘West Loria’ was subtle but directed towards Representative Ess. “They have taught me that there is a partner for everyone. We all know Eliot. We know what his reputation was, me more than anyone! But when he met Fen. Something just… clicked.” Margo snapped for emphasis. “Fen, strong and compassionate, thoughtful and serene, everything that Eliot needs in his life. During all the time I have known her she has blossomed while with him; and I have never seen him care about life more than he does when he is with her. We should all strive to love like they do.”

A handwritten note from Josh was in the margins.  _ If this sounds like a wedding toast that’s because it is. She said the same thing at their wedding. I guess, if it’s not broke don’t fix it?  _ Alice stifled a giggle and made it look like she was Elfen’s biggest fan.

“Our family has not just grown but been reunited!” Alice saw Quentin give a small salute to the crowd over the giant screens. “King Quentin, our Sovereign King, has come home! Fillory has missed you my dear Curly-Q. So many Fillorians resonate with your story of loss and depression. You guide the way to future understanding and compassion. You strive to make sure that  _ everyone _ in our fair land is prosperous. You are truly a king of the people. Your kindhearted soul touches each person it meets. I cannot count the times when you have melted the ice of the season for me. We welcome you back with open arms and cannot wait for the years to come.”

_ Josh again. Yeah… I tried to get her to add something about you. You’ve probably noticed that you have a lot of support in the city. Don’t let her snub get to you. And now that I think about it, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t have said anything. Sorry about that. _

It was true, Alice was bowled over by her words of support to Quentin that she didn’t even notice that she wasn’t mentioned. She didn’t even expect to be mentioned. Alice hoped that her not taking it as a snub meant that no one else did either. 

Margo smiled sadly to the crowd, a cue for them to settle that they followed seamlessly. “Each year our Sovereignty holds the same prayer. That the gods may deliver to us our lost daughter. Each year we pray that this is the year we have a coronation. We implore the spirits of the year to hear our pleas. Bring Engela’s daughter home! Let us once again inaugurate our Magician Queen…” Margo wiped a tear off her cheek from her good eye. Alice didn’t realize the woman could cry. She thought she might have had her tear ducts removed to better live up to her destroyer reputation. “Though…” Margo was laying on the emotion thick with her verklempt words. “A little Santa told me that we might not have to wait too much longer.” The movement of her head and eye were so quick Alice thought she had imagined it. It was a smirk and it looked triumphant. _ What was that supposed to mean _ ?

Alice looked for a note from Josh but there wasn’t one. Was that a message in itself? She was over-thinking things again and this was not the time. Still, it might be good to ask Q later…

Margo sauntered down the steps closer to the central crowd. Throughout her speech it had grown as those from the parade route had begun to filter in. It was another reason for the speakers. They might not have been able to see their rulers but it was made sure that they could be heard. “Even with all of these blessings they never compare to the blessing that is you. You are Fillory. Fillory thrives because of your spirit. I am who I am because of your love and support. I can only hope that you can feel my love and devotion as I feel yours.” Margo raised a glass of champagne. Where had she gotten it? She led the citizens in their country’s motto. “ _ By the people and for the people; we are one nation and one culture _ !  _ Merry Christmas and Happy Yule _ !”

There was a skip in High Queen Margo’s sashay as she made her way back to her throne. Eliot leaned over, a plastered smile on his face, “Laying it on a little thick there Bambi.” 

In her coquettish way Margo threw a smirk over at her High King. “Thick or not, they loved it.”  _ And me _ . The unspoken intention hung thickly between them. 

Eliot acted like he didn’t care about how the populace perceived him, but that could be farther from the truth. Eliot’s father was Noah the Stoic. He barely spoke and when he did it was concise and calculated. He had an antiquated belief on how the roles boys and girls should play in society. Eliot was close to his mother who rarely showed herself in society. She only made appearances for grand events such as the Christmas celebration. Noah, instead, chose his High Queen Sophia, Margo’s mother, to be his accompaniment for any other engagements. If it were any other man, rumors would have spread through the country about a possible affair. However, Noah’s reputation was well-earned. Even if he wasn’t an outwardly affectionate man he loved his wife and believed in the sanctity of marriage. Especially one between a man and a woman.

A processional began where those who wished to meet the Kings and Queen could come up and make a bow or curtsy. Some laid little gifts at their feet. Some were trinkets that their business produced and many were flowers. Yellow lilies as they were the national flower. With their vicinity to the mountains and the long cold air, hot houses were popular among the populations. Wealthier areas had people having their own but many had a community garden for vegetables and flowers that could be grown throughout the year. In return, everyone who made their way up to the royal thrones were given a sachet of a candle, salt, and roll. Fen explained that the candles to keep their hearths warm, the bread was to keep their stomachs full, and salt so their lives will always be protected. It clicked in Alice’s brain why Josh was so busy. He literally had to bake bread for every person in the nation.

Alice didn’t see the little girl come up to her. She had asked her Sovereign King if she may give a gift to the  _ amerikanisch _ . Fen noticed her first and it took a moment for Alice to process the new arrival. “Excooz me, mah laydee.” The girl couldn’t have been older than seven with ice blonde hair and bright blue eyes and pink rimmed glasses. 

“Hallo!” Alice smiled kindly. The little girl could have been her when she was that age.

“Merryee Creestmahs, Laydee Ahleece.” A yellow lily jutted out from the girl’s grasp. The girl was practically choking it to death in her grip. Her accent slowed her words in her attempt to get them just perfect. 

Gently, Alice took the gift. “Thank you, sweetie. What is your name?”

“Lara, mah Laydee.” 

“Merry Christmas Lara! I will cherish this, always.” Lara bobbed a quick curtsey and ran back down the steps. 

Alice was never good with children. She was halting and uncompromising. Her adviser asked her to consider teaching but Alice was just never good with people. She held others to her own expectations, even though she knew it wasn’t right. She just didn’t connect with people on their level. It took her forever to stop considering it as ‘going down’ to their level. Maybe it was that Lara reminded her of herself or just that someone considered giving her a gift at all. Or maybe this place was the heart of the Christmas spirit, but she could feel her walls start to tumble down from around her heart.

“Thankfully, no one ever never gets used to that,” Fen cut in.

“Used to what?”

A wistful look of hope crossed Fen’s features. “The children.” 

\---

“So, did you tell that little girl to give me the flower?” Alice asked, as she walked hand in hand with Quentin down the central street. Said flower had been pinned in her hair. It clashed with her outfit but that was the least of Alice’s concerns.

Quentin chuckled, “hardly. I thought it was for me! She told me, ‘No King Quentin. This is for Lady Alice.’ She knew what she wanted and she did not hesitate to ask for it. She reminded me of someone.” He kissed Alice’s temple. “Are you having fun? You’ve been rather quiet.”

“I’m okay. It’s just… a lot to take in. You know I don’t like crowds or being on stage and yet…” Alice looked over the festival. There were vendors of drinks and food and crafts and trade. Just behind the vendor row, which they were walking, carnival rides similar to what she knew on The Pier were going for attendees. 

“And yet, you rode in a carriage to thousands of people and sat center stage as Margo made her annual performance.” There wasn't any malice to the snarky comment though the truth remained. 

“And I didn’t take Margo’s snub to heart.”

“How do you know she snubbed you?” Quentin looked at her quizzically. The whole thing was in Fillorian and last he knew his girlfriend didn’t know how to speak his native language. But, also knowing her, it was quite possible she taught it to herself.

“Josh gave me a translation.” She held up the little program. “The people seem to love her.”

“Oh, they do! And for all that concrete exterior she loves them. But, she doesn’t give the speech every year. We all take a turn. But, I’ve only done it once. You know how I get in front of crowds.” He balked at the memory of the one time he presented the Christmas festival. From that point Margo graciously took it upon herself to do the years he didn’t want to.

“How many years have you been in… power?” Was that the right term to use?

“Well, Eliot and Margo are older than I am. Eliot is about two years older and Margo is less than a year. But, we all had to step up at the same time so they had to wait until I came of age. So… this will be my fifth year.”

“How long do reigns last?”

Q blew out a puff of air that made his cheeks swell. “It depends. Margo and Eliot were chomping at the bit to take over so, I had barely graduated University when we were coronated. The aristocracy must be at least twenty-two years old, so essentially graduated from University, and all previous rulers must have or be ready to retire.”

“Was it always like that?”

“No, not at all. Several times there have been four generations sitting on the throne. For a long time that was preferred. The elder generations offering wisdom as the younger generations tried to make radical changes. But, after the fourth line vanished…” He struggled with that word. They didn’t abdicate. They left a note specifically saying that wasn’t what it was. But, most of the time it sure did feel like it. Though everyone knew better than to bring it up to a Southy. “We decided it best to streamline everything. If a ruler has to abdicate suddenly then that space remains vacant until the next generation comes of age.”

“You take over so young,” Alice whispered.

“We’re actually the youngest generation in quite a while. Most of the generations have wanted to be married and starting families before taking over. But, I don’t know what ‘Go and El said to their parents to convince them to step down. I kind of wished that it would skip a generation.” Before he got lost in his thoughts, Q stopped them from walking and looked at her. “What… Why are you so interested?”

Alice raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? You’re going to ask the medieval historian why she’s so interested in the way an aristocracy has been set up?”

“Okay, okay. Fair point. But it sounds like you’re fishing. You forget I know your research modes.”

Alice was about to protest, but he had pulled her out of a deep dive too many times before for it to be effective. “I’ve been reading Engela’s journals. At the beginning, when you were kneeling, being re-coronated? The passage, I recognized it from her. She wrote it, didn’t she? I had never heard it, and I was very off with some pronunciations, but upon hearing it, I just  _ knew _ .”

Q nodded slowly. “Engela is much beloved here. Especially in the South Quad. That  _ vow _ was said at her coronation. She wrote it for her people and for the rest of us to know where she stood. After that, every queen from the South Quadrant recited it for their coronation. When they left, it was decided that each year we would recite it in their absence. A promise to our people and to their memory.” Q threaded his fingers in her hair, pressing back locks behind her ears. “Please, no more talk of politics, I get too much of it during the day.” Backing up, he grabbed both of her hands and started leading her away, “I want you to taste  _ the best _ hot chocolate ever.” 

The rest of the night went like that. They rode carnival rides, ate so much food until they were bursting, and laughed until they couldn’t breathe. They were stopped every few feet or so for people to bow or courtesy and shake his hand and welcome him home. For as much as Quentin and Alice indulged in the absolute bliss of the evening, Margo’s words drilled a hole into the back of Alice’s brain. It could have been platitudes to her people. But, Margo struck her as a person that meant what she said and if someone went against her grain then there would be hell to pay. _ King Quentin, our Sovereign King, has come home! _

\---

The hot chocolate they had imbibed slowly became more and more pepperminty with the schnapps that was added each time they went back for more. Alice wanted to ride the “horsies” back but the roads were too dark and it was too dangerous with the weather to go out with just the light of the moon to guide them. A local radio station had begun to play Christmas songs in earnest after the opening ceremony and the couple burst into the palace singing  _ Rockin Around the Christmas Tree _ with Alice’s folksy soprano and Quentin’s tone deaf voices ringing off of the stone walls. 

“Well, look what Santa dragged in. Tell me, who’s been naughty?” Eliot drawled. 

Alice sauntered up to the High King, as sultry as her drunken state could allow, and threw an arm around his neck before planting a hard smack on his cheek. “Sorry, Daddy,” she purred. 

Eliot watched the blonde twirl away with interest, “Q usually doesn’t like to share his toys but maybe he’ll make an exception.”

“You wish,” Quentin shot back in a rare form of defiance. 

Eliot pondered a bit, “Bollenbacher’s?” He questioned.

“Ohmigawd it’s so good!” Alice exclaimed. “Have you ever had it before? If you haven’t, you totally should.” She was speaking a mile a minute and seemingly forgotten who she was speaking to. 

The two men watched her twirl away still singing the Christmas pop song adding hip shimmies and little kicks. “Please don’t tell her you saw this,” Quentin softly begged.

“Hey, it wasn’t that long ago that I found you passed out in a closet sleep eating strawberries. Bollenbacher hits  _ everyone _ hard.” Still keeping an eye on the blonde he directed his attention back to his ex. “I’m glad I caught you though.”

“Why?” Quentin hiccuped. “I thought you’d still be out. It’s not… it’s not that late… is it?” The hiccups had begun to slur his words. Q knew from too many nights out with his compatriots this was going to go one of two ways and he really hoped it would go right instead of left.

Eliot snickered, “Quentin, it’s almost three.” Q’s mouth dropped. What had they been  _ doing _ ? “But, I wanted to invite you to my party.”

“Party?” Alice appeared next to them. How was she that quiet and stealthy when she was so drunk? “I want to go to a party. Quen can we go to a party?”

“Of course you can come, Debbie Harry!” Eliot snaked a long arm around her shoulders. “You’re the guest of honor!”

Alice giggled, a deep sound from her throat. “Q… I want to go to bed now.” 

Quentin nodded dumbly, “okay, we can take you to bed.”

“No silly.” She giggled again and marched her fingers up his chest until it booped on his nose. “I want to  _ go to bed _ .” She tried again.

Eliot leaned down and whispered hotly in her ear, “he was always slow on the cues, weren’t you  **_Q_ ** ?” He emphasized Alice’s name for him.

Quentin knew Eliot’s bedroom eyes too well and coupled with Alice’s was a little too much. He got the  _ cue _ loud and clear. “mmhmm. Yep. That… I was.” He took Alice’s hand, tugging her from his ex causing her to stumble into his arms. “Let me take you to bed.” He still wasn’t sure if the alcohol was going to take him right or left but he had a feeling he was more in control of the direction.

“After West Loria’s festival!” Eliot called from behind them. The two drunkards missed the Grinch like smirk climbing up his cheeks.

\---

Quentin tumbled back onto the bed as Alice climbed on top of him. She was drunkenly placing kisses randomly over his face and neck and her chin kept bumping against the buttons of his shirt. It took her a moment to figure out she needed to release them. 

“A-Al-Alice…” Q bumbled through her name a half protest half moan. When her teeth grazed a nipple he let out a wordless expletive, his eyes closing in pleasure. 

She shifted above him, her full skirt and crinoline bunching up around her waist and thighs. He took this moment to make sure she was okay with everything happening. He recognized there were things like non-verbal cues but It had been weeks since they had touched and he really wanted to make sure everything was okay. One corner of Alice’s lips quirked up and taking his hand she fitted it under the mass of fabric. Quentin’s eyes went wide at the discovery. “You’re not…” 

“What are you going to do about it Coldwater?” Her lips tugging on one of his lobes. 

Cupping between her thighs, he showed her his response. Alice gasped in surprise, he loved that gasp. The feel of her breath on his skin, the way her whole body went stiff, but how accommodating it was for him. Grabbing her around the waist, he flipped them over with his two fingers still inside. He curved his digits and released them, in a slow and soft rhythm. “Shall I count the seconds it takes to make you moan, or do you concede now?” Alice shook her head, she wasn’t about to concede. Her hands fisted and toes curled into the bedding, her bottom lip captured in her teeth and he felt her clamp down on his hand. 

It was Quentin’s turn to smirk. His fingers didn’t stop nor did they change intensity. Raising above her, he slid the edge of her sweater up revealing her porcelain flesh. His fingers traced the outline of her lingerie, he had always admired Kady’s work. Hooking a finger under the fabric he released one breast from its confines. His lips wrapped around the taught peak and pressed his fingers deeper. Alice begged and pleaded with him for more. Her hands dug into his shoulders and gripped at his long locks. She could feel his smile against her skin. “You can beg all you want,” he teased. His hand moved faster and deeper and Alice could feel tears welling in her eyes. 

Quentin laid light kisses along her collarbone, feeling it prickle under his skin. She was trying so hard to keep from moaning. Her hips matched his hand as she could feel her release building. “I can feel you,” he taunted, amazed. She was so close and he wanted to bring her over the edge but she knew the rule. She was the one who came up with it in the first place. He was more than happy to bring her to the brink and back without hesitation or question.  _ Deny me _ she said.  _ Make me moan first _ . It had taken some practice to get to a good place and rhythm with her particular request. 

Q’s lips traveled up her neck and over to her ear as his hips moved with his hand. A thousand versions of his name streamed out of her before releasing a single “please” in a low throaty moan. Planting his lips firmly over hers, he gave her permission, and felt the waves roll over her again and again and again until she went limp. 

Moving off to the side, he pulled her against him as his little spoon. “Wait.. you…” she weakly protested already beginning to drift off. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he cooed softly. This wouldn’t begin to make up for the time he had spent away from her but he hoped it was a start. No one would ever know it but Alice needed to be touched to feel love. She was standoffish with receiving because she felt like she couldn’t risk giving her heart away to just anyone. But those she did allow in, hugs, and holding hands, and grabbing pinkies were her lifeline. And he had seriously been neglecting this form of communication. It had been almost a week since their visit to the cabin and three since they made love in the den. Time was becoming a blur and he was having difficulty finding the work/life balance everyone prattled on about. Quentin needed to find a way to make up for the lost time. As his thoughts became hazy he drifted off to the sound of her small drunken snores. 


	11. Chapter 11

Over the next few days Quentin did what he promised himself, he was available to Alice whenever she needed for whatever she needed. And it turned out what she needed was someone to sit next to her as she read more of Engela’s journals. Periodically she would turn towards him and give him a lippy grin as their fingers were intertwined. He was needed with translating the books and so she could hear the pronunciation. The fervor with which she studied them was a bit concerning. When he asked her about it, her answers were incredibly vague. 

Halfway through the second day he took her on a field trip of the parts of the palace she had yet to see. Most notably the southern wing where the fourth line was housed. With Alice so far from everyone she failed to realize that the palace had been set up in such a way. The rooms were well kept to prevent any damage from mold or animals and even wear. The furniture was all covered in white sheets to protect them from dust. Quentin explained that every other month the most senior of staff were allowed in for light cleaning. 

Above the receiving room fireplace was a large painting of Engela similar to the tapestry Alice found in the armory. Only paintings and artist renderings could be found on the walls. Any accurate descriptions, like photographs, were gone. They were either hidden away or destroyed. No one knew, Q had said. The room was decorated in rich blues and greens with dark wood accents. The furniture was of art deco and so Alice deducted was occupied through the 1920s. 

It felt like walking through a tomb to Alice. “You’ve never met them…” it was a statement than a question.

“My grandparents knew them but they hadn’t taken the throne yet. They were only children at the time though.” He watched as Alice carefully walked through looking at each piece as if they were in a museum. Careful not to touch but he could see her fingers itching to do just that. 

She stopped at a glass case. It had a yellowed piece of paper inside of it. The heading was a seal of some sort and the slick thin writing was beginning to fade. It was in Fillorian so, she wouldn’t have been able to read it if she wanted. 

“ _ My blessed Fillorians _ …” Quentin began from across the room.

_ The decision I have made was neither easy nor fair. For me and to you. Intelligence has reached our parliament that an evil is at our door. With our Swiss brethren we were able to stave off advancing forces from our neighbors just over a score ago. We fear that this cannot be the case at this time.  _

_ I understand the amount of influence that not only I but our territory carries. We have been the site for many treaties, births, deaths, and unions. Even if a country may be spotless in the love of its people, we must bear the burden of the price that cost. A safe haven can only exist if it is respected.  _

_ Hitler has made it his mission to spread his hateful ideology throughout Europe - amassing all he can. Protect yourselves as we have done once before. We will be watching from afar and when it is decided that it is safe to return again we will send our daughter to you. She, whose head is heavy from the crown, will be worthy to be your Queen.  _

_ Aida Bosshart _ __   
_ Sovereign Queen of Fillory _ _   
_ __ Representative to the South Quadrant

Alice listened with rapt attention. “I had to memorize it for a civics class…” Quentin said bashfully. “She was one of the first to recognize that Hitler was a direct threat. If you look, it was dated just after the summer games that year.” 

She turned to look and saw the date of 12 September, 1936. “Nazi Germany was in full power by that time,” Alice whispered. “But… He wouldn’t annex Austria for another two years.”

There was a wry smile on Q’s face. “Leave it to my historian girlfriend to use Austria as a measurement instead of Poland.” 

“What does it mean that they will be watching from afar? And isn’t it safe now? I mean, the war ended 75 years ago.”

Quentin rested a hand on her back. “But, remember, we were on the edge of Western Germany. The Cold War ended only a few decades ago. Then you have the wars in the Middle East. When is it ever a good time to come  _ back _ into power?” He took a moment before answering her first question. “No one knows. I mean, most take it at face value. Some believe that they are hiding close by. Others think they perished on their escape. But  _ don’t _ ever say that to a Southy. They will tell you they feel it in their bones the dynasty is still alive.”

Alice continued her search throughout the apartments. All of the dressers and drawers were cleared out and the clothing that was left hung in a wardrobe, heavily protected, in vinyl dress bags. The fabric was pristine and Alice imagined how delicate it would be to the touch. She found dinner dresses and men’s suits. “Some of the clothing is on loan to various museums and fashion houses. As well as the jewels. They always want things from the fourth line because of their mysterious disappearance. We always loan them because we hope that the descendants will see them and come home,” Quentin explained.

“I wonder if Kady has seen them. I’ll certainly tell her to look for them. Was there something special about the fashions?”

Quentin started, his mouth gaping like a fish. “You would have to ask Margo and Eliot about that… I really just always wore what they told me.” He gave a halfhearted shrug.

Margo and Eliot… Yeah… Alice would get  _ right on that _ .

“But… I’ll show you the piece that everyone asks for.” Q led her over to a large oak armoire. The carvings alone could keep Alice’s attention for hours. Pulling a skeleton key out from his pocket he opened the latch and opened the doors wide. Inside a headless mannequin was dressed in an elaborate green velvet and white silk ballgown with what seemed like a dozen foot train that hung loosely to the side. “It was the coronation gown of the mother of the last Southern Queen. She’s now referred to as ‘Grandmother’ by the citizens of the South Quadrant,” Quentin explained. “It was designed by a French Designer Worket or something.”

“Shut! Up!” Alice cried. “ _ This _ is a House of Worth design?!”

“Yeah! That’s it!” Quentin smiled. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Kady won’t shut up about him!” Every time a traveling Worth exhibit came through Chicago, Kady dragged Alice to every one.  _ It’s  _ **_history_ ** _! _ she would protest. “According to her at the same time he invented _haute couture_ he created ready-to-wear. He was the most prolific designer of the 19th and 20th centuries. The call him the ‘Father of Fashion’ because everything that has to do with the business of fashion, like seasonal collections, were his invention. He was the ‘New Look’ of the Victorian Era.” Alice waved off his clueless look. “Can I… touch it?”

Quentin smirked and leaned into her, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The velvet was as soft as it looked. It was probably brushed a hundred times before being worn and either time was kind to it or they spent a lot of time and money restoring it. The bodice hung right at the shoulders and created a slight sweetheart neckline. There was extra fabric at the bust which mean that the corset the Queen wore didn’t cover her breasts. Alice peeked her head around the back and softly felt the back for the details. It scooped down to the shoulder blades and the back had a ties running down it. Hidden under the thick velvet were stays which meant that the bodice was a corset itself. A bouquet of ivory embroidered flowers decorated the edge of the neckline and traveled down the front that ended in a sharp point.

The silk was smooth, almost buttery, and it was more ivory than white. When shifted under the light a pattern emerged. It had to have been woven at the time the silk was made for it wasn’t embossed or embroidered. It shimmered like water. The train was attached at the waist and hung delicately in a large swing so it wouldn’t bend or crease. The same flowers that were on the bodice decorated the edge of the train. At first glance the embroidered flowers matched the ivory of the silk, and were probably made from the same silk as the skirt. However, just like the silk shimmered, so did the thread. But it shimmered with hues of blues, purples, and yellow. Tiny crystals were set in each flower, reflecting the various colors of the thread, and not one was missing. Lastly, was a thick green fur that was lighter than the green velvet. The shag was long and Alice wondered if it was a track that was sewn in or if each piece had been woven up through the velvet. 

“Can I take a picture? Kady would kill me if I didn’t. Literally. It’s bad enough I got to  _ touch _ a Worth design but the fact that this isn’t open to the public and she never saw it?! I will make her promise not to share it with anyone.” At Quentin’s nod she snapped a quick photo with her phone and sent it off to her best friend with a tagline of “Lost House of Worth design is now found.”

Alice felt like she could stay in these apartments forever. The rich history surrounding her was comforting while it was disconcerting to Quentin. Closing up the dresser he held out his hand to his girlfriend, “Come on, we have a party to get ready for.” He wasn’t overall thrilled to be going but he wasn’t detested by the idea.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a beast of a chapter. The longest out of all of them.

“So, why aren’t we going to the West Loria festival?” Alice asked on the car ride throughout the countryside.

“We are, it’s just not the same as the opening ceremony. Yes, we are guests of honor,” the inclusive pronoun did not go unnoticed by the American. “but there isn’t much pomp and circumstance surrounding it. West Loria is known for their culinary arts. So, it is a literal _schmorgesborg_ open to all attendees. No money is exchanged and everyone makes their best dishes to share. Some get experimental and alcohol flows like water. They like their decadence. I’d be more than happy to show you around, but knowing El’s parties… I’d rather not be there too long.”

The capital city of West Loria was the largest behind the capital of the country. It stretched to the border of Switzerland making it a literal gateway city. Old ramparts still stood where it was a principality needing defended. Quentin explained that during the second crusade it was the beginning point for those just north of the Alps. 

The dinner was similar to what American’s would call a buffet. They were stopped and greeted every dozen feet or so. Quentin only took pictures with kids under a certain age. He guarded his position very closely and refused to discuss politics when anyone started to bring up the subject. All spoke to him in Fillorian which Alice quickly realized was an absolute snub against her. She didn’t dare bring it up to Quentin because she knew he would kiss her cheek or temple or give her a quick peck on the lips and tell her that she had nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t tell her outright that she was wrong but he would brush it off. It was what he always did when she became paranoid over something. 

During her first visit to the quadrant Alice hadn’t noticed how many military personnel occupied the territory. Men in women were dressed anywhere from camo fatigues to dress uniforms. Every single serviceman and woman stopped to salute their sovereign. Quentin simply nodded his head. He was very much not a soldier. Alice discovered that Eliot and Margo were militaristically trained. Margo _wanted_ to be but Eliot was forced into it. Neither saw any sort of combat and their training was similar to the US Reserves. They would go to a camp for a few weeks in the summer and then go back during school breaks. Quentin’s parents didn’t want him in that atmosphere and decided that two trained royals were plenty. Instead Quentin focused on commerce and technology. He went to school for engineering and really enjoyed city planning. Someone had to know the best way to keep the country organized. 

They had begun the night on one side of _Weißerturm_ and ended on a romantically lit path. Christmas lights were strung around trunks and branches of trees along with little tea lights in bags along the path so no one would get hurt. Snow crunched under their feet as they walked silently hand in hand. Other couples rushed past them with very few registering who Quentin was to give proper respect but he did not care. For a moment it felt like they were back in Chicago. Then it hit Alice, she hadn’t seen him for almost a month when they first started dating. She stopped walking, but Q didn’t, and the solidness made him recoil when his arm stretched behind him. “Vix?”

He was softly lit by the moon and the path and she found him breathtaking. Never had she described him that way. Quirky, cute, and handsome when he dressed up. “When you dressed up…” His suits were always tailored perfectly. She just figured that he followed what was on the mannequin or asked a sales associate and he was a standard size. Kady never argued with her logic but if she hadn’t have been so blind at the beginning she would have registered her best friend’s looks of doubt.

Q saw his girlfriend start to blink rapidly, a nervous tick when she processed a lot of information. Afraid of what could happen he took her hands gently in his and started to bring her out of her thoughts. “When I dressed up what, Vix?” His big brown puppy dog eyes never wavered from her face and concern was etched throughout his body.

“This…” She said softly.

Giving a silent command to the bodyguard twenty paces behind him he pulled his girlfriend off of the path. They didn’t go far but enough so they couldn’t be seen from anyone walking by. Dazed she followed still wrapping her head around things that she should have noticed from the beginning. Leaning her against a tree he took both of her hands again, his full attention on her. “Alice,” he never used her first name unless it was important. “make your thoughts start at the beginning.”

“When we met… We went on two dates and then you were gone for almost a month. You said for work. You meant this, didn’t you?”

Quentin nodded, “yes. But I came back right after Christmas. Do you remember? I said that I wasn’t needed, and I really wasn’t, and I just wanted to come home… to you.” Alice looked at him, her thoughts beginning to slow. “And you said that was creepy and I said I was old fashioned and you said it was still creepy and I said that I didn’t care and then you-”

“laughed.” She finished for him. She could feel the tangled thoughts beginning to unweave themselves. “But you met everyone at New Years and you were dressed… _so good_ .” She breathed the last two words. He really had been. He looked similar to how he was currently dressed. With the exception of important events he could always be found in straight-legged or skinny jeans with a t-shirt and hoodie. “Kady had to have cornered you. I know her. You, dressed as you were, would _not_ go unnoticed.”

“And I wasn’t,” the tension in his shoulders started to ease. “She asked me a million questions about who I was wearing and where I got it from and I played dumb. Then she asked me why…” Everything was beginning to unravel. He had kept his secret for a year and now he knew he was going to have to tell her everything. Well… _almost_ everything. He looked to the sky as if asking for guidance before squaring his shoulders and coming clean. “I told her that I had a prestigious job. My shop was what could be considered a side project but it was what made me happiest. I had to dress a certain way but I wasn’t comfortable this way but I knew that night was important to you and I wanted to be someone you could be proud of. She gave me one of her ‘that’s bullshit’ looks and I told her that I knew you wouldn’t care what I did for a living but I was trying to detach myself from it and so I didn’t even want to bring you in.” He took a deep breath because holy hell run on sentence.

“She just.. let you go?” Alice didn’t quite believe it. Her friend wouldn’t let up that easily.

“Sort of. You started to make your way over to us and that gave me an out. I never really let myself be alone with her for very long after that.”

“I can’t… I can’t believe she kept that from me.”

“I asked her to after we started to really become serious. She said it wasn’t her place to say and as long as I didn’t hurt you she wouldn’t step in.” Q’s voice trailed off at the threat of bodily harm she gave him. Oh, he was very aware of the damage she could do.

“But… when we first arrived. I _watched_ you change. You got out of the car and you stood taller, your hair was neater, you stopped stuttering.” She felt like she was on the wrong side of a sick joke.

“You know how there are some times you just have to play a part? You watch everything you say and you pay more attention to the details?” He didn’t wait for her to nod. “That’s me _here_.”

“But you grew up with them…”

“And? Are you the same person you were when you were ten?” She flinched at his tone. “I’m sorry. That… came out wrong. Yes, we grew up together and I have a history with them. They are my family. But, even families don’t always truly know a person. I have so much responsibility here that I am always in response mode. I’m reacting to everything. I can’t ever plan or be prepared. I can _try_ but that’s not how it really works. But in Chicago? I’m in charge of my life. And it feels… _so good_.” He let a breath out with those words.

“You know me when I am in control of my life. When every decision I make is just for me… And sometimes you.” His mouth quirked in a smile, trying to goad her into one. Her features softened but she wasn’t ready to smile just yet. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his hands resting on her jaw, “I love you, Vix. You let me be me. I don’t have to put pretenses on anything or worry about what someone is going to say. All I can be concerned about is you. I’m so sorry I lied about everything. I should have been honest from the beginning.” Standing straight, he let out a puff of breath, as his hands dragged down her shoulders. “Well, looks like I have to go lay on a blade…” He turned on his heel and took a step away before Alice grabbed his hand.

“Your execution is stayed good knight.” A blush crept up her cheeks and a ghost of a smile danced on her lips. “I guess there were just signs that I should have paid more attention to. Anyone else and I would have found out the truth. But you… I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” The relief that came from her confession was more than she was prepared for. Alice “Ice Queen” Quinn was in love with a king.

He was swift with his kiss. Pressing her against the tree, his hands snaking their way into her hair and around her waist. She clutched at his lapels letting herself get lost for a moment. “Q…?” His mouth traveled down to her neck and the hand that was at her waist was lifting her thigh. “Q? Quen?” His new position allowed her to remember where they were and this was not a place they wanted to be caught. “Quentin!”

“Yes?” he growled as his teeth found purchase on her lobe.

“People can see us.” That got him to stop. He hated PDA even in Chicago. Now she understood why. He straightened himself, letting go of her leg and disengaging from her embrace. Turning back to the path she could see his confusion in his shoulders as there was no one around. “I said people _could_ see us, _not_ that people were _watching_ us.” She gave a flirtatious smirk as she led him back out to the path. Quentin looked to the tree covered starry sky. He resigned himself that her wit would always be sharper than his. 

At the end of the path stood a cottage. It wasn’t really a remarkable cottage. “It’s bigger on the inside,” Quentin whispered as they came to the front door. The bass from the music the DJ was playing was thumping outside and muffled voices drifted out through the cracked windows. Alice felt rather than saw Q brace himself for what they were about to walk into. He explained that the cottage had been in Eliot’s family for almost a millennia. It had undergone numerous renovations for things like extra space, water, indoor plumbing, and electricity. The exterior and support structure had never changed. It looked like a gingerbread house. There was white lace trim and a swooping roof. It was brown either from wood or the siding was painted and the windows weren’t a regular pane but stained glass. Alice wasn’t entirely positive that the fable _hadn’t_ been based on this house alone.

A sign was nailed, actually nailed to the front door. _Gib alle Nüchternheit auf, die du hier eintrittst._

“A-ban-don… all…” Alice tried to translate slowly.

“Abandon all sobriety, ye who enter here.” Quentin said annoyed. He tipped his head back, sighing. Why did he ever think he was prepared for this shit?

Upon entering the couple took in the atmosphere. Quentin’s face was blank while Alice realized this was the absolute epitome of a “college party”. An unknown girl handed them two glasses of something. Quentin didn’t even endeavor to inquire what it was he just clinked Alice’s glass with barely a look at her and shot it back. Eliot had to be tending bar, Q reasoned privately. Apprehensively Alice followed suit. It was good. But what it was she couldn’t even begin to place it. 

The guests on the main floor were dancing and mingling. The music was pregame music. Disclosure was currently playing and she could see people blowing large smoke rings on the couches around the perimeter. The refer mixed with tobacco started to waft out with the door still open. Quentin kicked it closed with the heel of his foot. Alice was familiar with the reggie back in college but this was… pleasant. It had sweet notes to it and very little acidity. “Josh brings it in from all over. It’s not illegal here but the land and climate isn’t conducive to crops so growing has been outlawed for environmental purposes.” 

Speaking of the man, Alice saw a table with a makeshift bake sale like sign in front of it. There were plates of sweets stacked high and a few people around him. “There he is.” She waved to him and he gave her a jovial smile in return. She didn’t hear Quentin protest as she made her way over to her new friend. “Josh, what’s all this?” She went to grab a particularly enticing slice of chocolate cake.

“No!” He cried, startling her causing her hand to snatch back. “These are… _special_.” Josh tried to emphasize. 

It took the blonde a minute, “You mean… these are _weed_ brownies?” She whispered conspiratorially. 

He chuckled, “Americans and your puritanical ways. There are some weed brownies but these are treats for the most discernible customer who is looking to reach the heavens of their mind.” 

Her confusion read clearly but before she could inquire further, Q caught up to them. “Josh! Where is everyone? Who are all these people?”

“Not sure. Friends of the court I’m guessing.”

“Where is Eliot and Margo?”

“Downstairs. I’m going to close down in a few because most of these are on reserve for later in the evening. Want me to save you a couple?”

“No, we’re good.” His tone was short. Sharper than he intended. Taking a moment he calmed himself. “Thanks. Where’s the bar?” 

“Todd is tending up here. Eliot is tending-”

“Downstairs.” Quentin finished. “Got it.”

He pulled his girlfriend towards the basement entryway. “Q!? What is _wrong_?” She stopped in the middle of the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest. “You were fine on the trail. If you’re worried about Josh, don’t be. I’ve had an edible before.”

“I’m not upset about the edibles. But, trust me, they aren’t what you think they are. I just…” He dragged a hand heavily through his hair. “I liked being on the trail with you. I liked being _alone_ with you. I don’t like these parties. Things… I just don’t have a good feeling about it, that’s all.”

“You’re being a little over dramatic, Quen. It’ll be like any other party. I’ll nurse a drink the entire time we’re here, sit in a corner, and after thirty minutes the music will be too loud, the people will be too much, and I’ll want to go home.” 

Quentin pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He really hoped that was all that was going to happen. Eliot’s parties tended to be their own universes. Things happened that didn’t normally in the real world. It was like he weaved his fingers in an intricate pattern making a bubble to surround them that turned off the laws of physics and nature. He took a breath. “You’re right. You aren’t a party girl so I shouldn’t pretend that you will all of a sudden become one. But, be warned, the drinks are really strong.”

“Even more reason to leave and go to bed early.” She gave him a big lippy grin before kissing his cheek. “Everything will be fine.” She pulled him in the direction they were first headed, her hips moving with the beat of _Get Lucky_ by Daft Punk. Her short skirt showing off her full hips clouding his mind from the anxiety.

Twirling her, he brought them to the door of the basement. Like always it was closed. Eliot and Margo liked to section off their parties. There was the main room party where the general invite guests mostly inhabited. Then, there was the basement party. That was for the inner circle. Those from the general invite list were allowed down there, if they could get the courage to open the door. It was really all it took. Margo had devised the “Closed Door” plan to keep an air of exclusivity but it was also a test for those who were courageous. She was all about tests and secret handshakes. It was part of her armor. If someone could get through them then she felt them worthy of her time and affection. But even then, it was easy to patch metal and she had shunned many in her life to protect herself. 

The entire basement was bathed in black light. It was ironically fashioned like a Euro Trash club. The music was deafening, masking their entrance. It gave Alice the chance to survey the atmosphere. Half naked sweaty bodies were dancing in the middle of the floor. A full bar was lit with various neon lights behind the many bottles of liquor. Josh was right, Eliot was tending bar and flagrantly flirting with a very attractive Hispanic man. In the opposite corner a DJ was stationed in the corner and currently _G6_ was blasting through his speakers and he was putting his own scratch against the track combining it with Sean Paul’s _Temperature._

When the pair made it to the floor, a very sweaty and almost naked Fen rushed up to her. “ALICE!” She yelled. The denim skirt was more like the size of a belt and her blouse had been discarded somewhere leaving her in a man’s white tank with the bottom ripped off. Her hair was pulled away from her face and wet tendrils framed her cherub-like face. Alice instantly felt overdressed in her short a-line skirt and short-sleeved sweater. “COME DANCE!” 

Alice looked at Quentin for help as Fen pulled her to the dance floor. Her boyfriend simply waved goodbye. Fen didn’t keep her to the side and let her warm her way up into the crowd, no, she was pulled directly into the fray. It felt like it was twenty degrees warmer in the center and she had a feeling that the faux fur lined knee high wedges she had chosen were about to be a mistake. Alice took a moment to watch Fen jump and shake her hips to the beat. She wondered if she knew about Eliot and the man at the bar or if she even cared. “COME ON!” Fen put her hands on Alice’s hips and tried to make them move. Alice took Fen’s hands gently in hers and maneuvered them off her hips. She wondered. fleetingly, if Fen had eaten one of Josh’s goodies before coming down here. 

Alice took a moment to find her entrance to the song and once she did her hips moved in staccato with the driving beat. Her shimmy traveled from her ankles to her arms and Fen did her best to keep up. Alice had a little bit of a secret. In high school, Kady used to take her down past 63rd St. Before coming to The ‘Burbs it was where she grew up and still had many friends and family. It was in those clubs that she learned how to let herself become a different person. Someone free of inhibition and consequences. She had earned the nickname “Styles” not because she had any but because she was the _whitest_ person there and all of her dance acumen came from ballet lessons she had as a child. Effectively, she was the Julia Stiles character from “Save the Last Dance”.

“Q!” Eliot caught his ex’s attention shoo-ing the object of his momentary attention away. “Just like you remember?” His eyes glinted with something. Eliot was not a stranger to party enhancers. Quentin nodded slowly still taking everything in. The lights, music, and smell. It was like he had never left. Most likely what El was going for. Before he could ask for a shot, something neon green appeared before him. “Kryptonite. Your favorite.” Eliot always knew him. Quentin lifted the glass in _salut,_ tapped it against the bar, and shot it back. He was going to need three more of these. Sure enough, as soon as he put the glass down Eliot was refilling it.

“I’m really glad you came! I think that you and Alice really need tonight.”

“We’re not staying long,” Quentin protested. “She is not a partier.”

Eliot’s face was unreadable. Picking up another shaker he took a bunch of bottles and mixed up something. Quentin had learned long ago not to ask what Eliot made. “Have you said your greetings to Margo?”

“No, I haven’t seen her. I saw Josh upstairs. I figured she’d have that hawk eye on him.” He watched Eliot motion over to their High Queen. She was sitting in a makeshift throne, men in various states of dress were around her. One was giving her a hand massage as she used another as a footrest. Dark lipstick filled her lips and the bedazzled eye patch glinted in the light. “What does Josh think of that?” He asked about Margo’s current position.

“That she comes home to him and when she’s ready she’ll pop the question.” He finished making the shots filling up a few of them. “Here. Find your girlfriend in the crowd and give her one of these.” He put a hand up effectively stopping anything that Quentin was going to say. Quentin thought his girlfriend wasn’t a partier… Eliot was inches taller than his ex and the floor behind the bar was raised. He had an eye on Alice and his wife this entire time. If there was one thing that Eliot prided himself on with the parties he threw was that everyone discovered a truth about themselves or the person they were with. It was at one of his parties that Quentin kissed him for the first time.

Following the lyrics of the song, the two women’s bodies, acted like opposite poles of magnets, their movements drawing themselves to each other. Doing a spin on her own, she came face to face with her boyfriend holding shots of something neon. Alice shot back two of them with ease unfazed by his jaw on the floor. “Don’t get mad don’t be mean,” she sang to him with Fen being her duet. Alice dragged a finger down his jaw, hooking her arms over his shoulders as her hips continued to move with the music. Fen, moved behind Alice, her hands finding Quentin’s and moved them to the blonde’s waist with hers leaving them to go to her thighs. 

Q shot back the final shot and magically a girl appeared at their side and took the shot glasses from them. Quentin knew it was Eliot’s doing. The strings of the Pussycat Dolls song “Buttons” filtered through and he watched his girlfriend’s eyes light up in extacy. She rolled her body up against Fen maneuvering her off her just slightly so she could turn and press her ass against Q’s hips. He had felt his girlfriend’s hips move similarly in the bedroom, but his quiet, academic, almost stiff girlfriend was doing them in a room full of people _against him_. At the same time, she was energetically paying attention to her new friend, who was picking at Alice’s sweater. Smoothly, Alice raised her arms and her sweater was gone. Off to the side to never be seen again. Unless it was in an “Upstairs Party”, meaning in one of the bedrooms, the unspoken rule was if it came off it was not coming back on. 

Quentin would never admit it but he was very grateful his Vix had decided to wear a camisole underneath. Alice would never forgive herself if she knew she let someone undress her in front of a party full of people. Well, the Alice he knew. After the sweater he was going to make it his mission to keep as many clothes on his girlfriend as possible.

“Look at this little party!” Eliot appeared with a tray of a full bottle of Patron, a plate of limes, and a salt shaker. He bent down to his wife giving her a very passionate kiss as his free hand wound itself lightly into Quentin’s hair. The younger king didn’t allow himself to ponder if the kiss Eliot was giving his wife was really meant for her. Disengaging, his features looked invigorated, “Who wants a shot?”

“Body shots?!” Alice asked excitedly.

“Oh, my Marilyn, the absolute wonder you are.” The High King praised her. “Would you like to go first?” She nodded enthusiastically. Eliot untangled his hand from Quentin’s hair and snapped. The girl who took the empty shot glasses from Quentin earlier appeared. Eliot placed the tray in her hands and he poured a few glasses handing one to Alice. 

“Do you mind?” she asked her boyfriend. The previous shots were starting to catch up to him and he tugged his collar down in response. Alice placed a wedge of lime between his lips and she languidly dragged her tongue up his neck. It happened too fast for Quentin. He hadn’t realized she even sprinkled the salt before her lips was on his, tugging the lime from him. 

“My love?” Eliot turned to Fen offering her a shot glass. Shaking her head she held out her arm instead. He paid particular attention to the crook of her elbow before sprinkling and shooting the liquor and coming back to it. His tongue danced over the salt and Alice and Quentin were privy to how much the High King knew about his wife. 

“Lime… lime… lime! Lime! Lime!” Fen cried before shoving the wedge into Eliot’s mouth. Sucking on the citrus he winked at the Sovereign couple leaving Alice thoroughly confused about Eliot’s sexuality. “My turn!” Fen clapped. She took her new friend by the hand and spun her around until Alice’s back was pressed against her. They swayed to Beyonce and Nicki Minaj before Alice against laid her head against the High King’s Consort’s shoulder. Fen, laid open wet kisses to Alice’s neck as Quentin watched with dry eyes. With his attention diverted, Eliot took his time taking in the look of lust in his ex’s eyes. Alice reached out for her Q as Eliot descended upon her clavicle, the four of them beginning to move as one.

\---

It took a few songs but Quentin gathered his senses and disengaged his drunken self and girlfriend from the twist of limbs. Eliot and Fen took it in stride, their dancing becoming less sexual but their attention to each other didn’t waver. They took up a more waltz stance rocking and twirling in their bubble, their bodies staying pressed against each other. With Fen’s back pressed against her husband, words were whispered against her neck and one of her arms beckoned the Hispanic man, from earlier, away from the wall. 

Quentin, gulped down a large glass of water. He was afraid that something like what happened on the dance floor would occur. “You ready to go?” Quentin yelled over the music to her.

Alice ordered another alcoholic drink, unfazed by her lack of dress, continued to keep herself lost in the room. “Why? We’ve only been here for like twenty minutes!” She lit up as her drink was handed to her and she took a grateful sip.

Q looked at his watch. “Vix, it’s been _two hours_ .” Their orgy-esc dance still ran through him. He could feel Eliot and Alice’s hands on his skin and in his hair. Forgotten feelings began to emerge and Quentin tamped them down as hard as he could. He was afraid that his girlfriend _was_ in her right mind and didn’t understand just how hypnotic the High King could really be. Overall he was okay with the dancing, it was feeling Margo’s eyes on him that made him pull Alice away. Margo was a puppet master if he ever knew one.

“Oh come on, Q,” Alice whined. “I’m having _fun_ . Aren’t _you_ having _fun_?” Her words slurring with every sip of her drink.

“Yeah, _Q_ ,” Eliot appeared next to Alice, drawing out his nickname, and slinging an arm over her shoulders. “Grace Kelly over here has been _itching_ to let her hair down.” Plucking her drink from his hands he took a sniff and recognized it instantly. He scrunched his face in disgust and put it away from her on the bar. “Friends don’t let friends drink Long Islands.” He waved the temporary bartender away and climbed over the bar to start mixing something special for her.

“Where’s Fen?” Quentin asked. Eliot motioned over to the middle of the dance floor where his wife was still dancing with the man from earlier. She was like the energizer bunny. 

“She’s entertaining tonight’s guest until it’s my turn,” Eliot smirked. Quentin knew that smirk very well. He was already imagining how the evening was going to go and if Quentin knew Eliot, which he did, then he knew that whatever El was planning was going to come true. “But, my dear Rita Hayworth, our good High Queen has requested your presence.”

Now is when Quentin started to panic. He had been trying to keep the peace between the two by keeping them on opposite sides of the castle. It wasn’t too difficult with everything that each had to do. But, the disaster of the dinner when they first arrived and all of the little public snubs spelled catastrophe to the Sovereign King. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We’ll go back to the palace right now.”

“Oh come on Quentin, you know how Margo is around new females.” 

Quentin was trusting his royal partner less and less by the minute. “It took Fen literally throwing knives at Margo’s head for her to ‘come around’.” 

“And now they’re thick as thieves! What’s a little attempted murder between royal-in-laws?”

Alice gulped down the rest of her drink, “No, Eliot is right. If Margo wants a competition then I’m going to give her a game to play.” 

“That’s my Mae West!” Eliot cheered as she sauntered away to Margo on her human makeshift throne. 

Quentin’s sanity was steadily leaving him. He knew this night was going to be a disaster and right now it was train on a collision course. He watched Alice disappear into the throng and as he turned to find his usual quiet corner closet to breathe he realized the amount of people in the basement had doubled. The main room party was coming downstairs which meant only one thing. Margo was planning a spectacle. Quentin wasn’t a religious man and rarely did he take to prayer, but he sent the biggest one he could to the Magician Queen. If ever there was a spirit still walking around this earth, he truly believed it was her.

Margo hadn’t moved all night, but more men had appeared with the original chair being discarded for a tangle of men. One of the heels of her tall lace up black leather boots dug into the back of the gentleman being her foot rest. Her keen eye watched over the party with the same unwavering malevolent expression. She barely registered Alice’s arrival.

Alice curtsied deeply and watched as Margo’s face split into a wide and frighteningly smile. “Welcome to our little soiree. It looks like you’ve been having fun.” Nodding her head towards Alice’s camisole shift.

She crossed her arms out of embarrassment but she wanted Margo to think it was out of defiance. Let the battle begin. “Eliot-”

“The High King,” Margo supplied.

Pursing her lips she swallowed her pride. “High King Eliot said you requested my presence.”

“Please,” she uncrossed her legs off of her human ottoman and nudged him over to Alice. “Have a seat.” Alice might be into a little control play but using a human as furniture? It was starting to cross a line. Margo rolled her eyes. “They like it! It’s what _they_ want,” she said exasperatedly. 

Alice sat gingerly, keeping her arms crossed, the hot room becoming colder with Margo’s attention. Sitting on a human wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but she would have preferred to stand. However, after all of the dancing, sitting made her keenly aware of how sore her feet were becoming. 

“You put on quite a show. You’ve been the talk of the party.” One of the manservants - slaves - handed his Queen a martini. “It’s around this time of night that I like to entertain the party. Sometimes Fen joins me. I thought it would be fun if you joined instead.”

“I don’t know…” Alice shook her head. It was one thing to dance with friends with no one looking, or what she _thought_ was no one looking but for _all_ of the attention to be on her? She liked her ballet classes until it was time to stand up in front of everyone and actually perform. Her instructor had said she would go far but her stage fright was just too much. The mere thought of all of this was beginning to sober her up. 

“A little birdy told me you used to dance and by the display you put on earlier she - oops! I mean… _they_ were right.” Alice could have melted into the floor. She was _trying_ to play the game! But her anxiety was telling her it would be better if she was just a puddle on the ground.

“Hey guys!” Fen bounced up. “What’s going on over here? People are starting to whisper.” She turned to Margo, “Are we going to be putting on a show?!” Fen’s words were going a mile a minute. Her pupils were dilated and past the point of just being in a dimly lit room. Fen was definitely on something and Alice was praying she knew what she took instead of Eliot just slipping her something. That was a really terrible thought to have and she had no proof he would do something so sinister.

“I’ve invited little Alice to join us but it looks like her apprehension is getting the best of her. I don’t know if I should be offended.” Margo emptied her glass and the drink slave replaced it with another. 

“Come on, Alice! It’s super fun! A circle surrounds us and we just dance, nothing formal, and it’s only like to a song or two and then everyone joins in! There’s nothing to be afraid of, I swear!” 

“Well-” Alice began. She wanted to talk to Quentin. Her plan was going badly and she wondered if she could still sneak off.

“Great!” Margo clapped. “You’re going to need to lose the skirt.”

“But I… I mean… Well I already lost my sweater earlier.”

Margo snapped her fingers and a ball gagged man stepped forward with Alice’s previously discarded garment. “We’ll have it laundered.”

“Can I… have a moment? Get another drink first?” The drink slave handed the blonde a martini. Margo really knew how to make sure no one told her ‘no’. Standing Alice took it gingerly. 

“Come on! I’ll help!” Fen took Alice’s hand and pulled her to the corner. “Don’t worry about anything. Quentin is going to find it super hot.” 

“I’m not so sure about that…” Alice tried to find her boyfriend but it was fruitless since she couldn’t look over the throng of party goers.

“Please?” Fen whined. “My high is at its peak and after this I can wind down.” So, she _knowingly_ took something. Americans really were puritanical when it came to things like this Alice concluded. Fen was surrounded by those who would protect her if things went wrong. She was an adult perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Alice couldn’t control everything and if Margo wanted to play by letting loose then Alice was going to let loose.

“Alright.” Alice unzipped the back of her skirt and slid it down her legs. Fen waved for one of the leather clad men for assistance and Alice handed her garment over. “She’s not going to fuck me over, is she? Push me out there and just leave me?”

“Al, I wouldn’t let her.” 

The music dimmed and a loud knocking sound brought everyone to attention. While there wasn’t a specific spotlight, Margo _shined_ . Silkily she rose from her human throne, the black lace body con dress obfuscated her in the right places. A faux princess crown that surrounded the thick bun on top of her head gleamed. “I require…” Her one eye gazed out at her guests “music.” The synth of Madonna’s classic _Vogue_. The nice thing about having a DJ was that they could repeat sections of songs for however long they needed. Or remove sections. The snaps of the song echoed in the basement. With each snap Margo took a step. “There have been rumors about unrest in my house.” She pointed at a random guest, “pose.” And they did. “I want to dispel these hurtful comments.” Margo motioned to three more guests telling them to pose and they followed without question. “Ladies!”

“That’s our cue!” Fen pulled Alice to the center of the circle, her behavior getting more manic in anticipation. 

“My dear sister, Fen. The Lady of the People.” Margo kissed each cheek. “Next time,” she whispered. Fen’s practiced smile stayed plastered to her face. This wasn’t a snub she told herself. This was her friend’s time to come into the foray. 

“Alice Quinn. Our American. The one who stole our Quentin’s heart.” She kissed Alice’s cheeks like she had Fen. “Vogue with me.” Keeping Alice in the very center, Margo walked a stylized step around the circumference of the circle. Alice took ballet from the age of six to sixteen. Once a week for nine months out of the year. Margo on the other hand studied in Paris, Milan, London, and Moscow. She left Alice, clad in her thin shift in the center unsure of how to move while the High Queen danced with her subjects. 

_It’s called a dance floor and here’s what it’s for…_ Margo trailed her hand down Alice’s giving her a deep bow that the blonde returned. Pulling Alice into an embrace Margo lead a basic Latin style ballroom dance. Quentin never danced with her, but after realizing how he was raised she was certain he was hiding his talent. Alice concentrated on trying to follow and remember what she had learned in high school gym class. Before she could catch her breath Margo spun her out to do her own thing. It was another snub. It was another power move. 

_It makes no difference if you’re black or white. If you’re a boy or a girl…_ This was it, the moment was upon her. Her time to run had past and now it was time to step up. She followed Margo’s lead and paid attention to the audience around them. It was time to _ignore_ Margo. Remembering how she saw the High Queen act Alice put her own little spin on it. No one dared touch their Queen but Alice took their hands and let them explore as she moved. She moved in between two people to “bump and grind”. She paired people of all genders together. It had the desired effect, Margo was _incensed_. It took so little to get her competition riled up, Alice mused. 

Before she could spend too much thought on how her competitor was reacting, Alice found herself back into Margo’s embrace, their hips locked against each other and swaying in time. Madonna would be proud. It was now time for Alice to get the courage to take the lead. She led Margo in a set of spins and couplings before Margo had to disengage herself from the taller blonde. She kept herself on the sidelines trying to regain her composure as Alice let herself feel the energy in the room. 

_Beauty’s where you find it…_ Doing what Margo never would, Alice involved the audience calling out their celebrity pseudonyms and making them pose as Margo had once done. She took old favorite dance moves and moved herself around her little playthings. Playthings. That was how Margo saw her subjects. They loved her but did the High Queen love _them_? Everyone within the true inner circle kept saying that Alice just needed to get to know Margo. Margo was a tough cookie but nothing that couldn’t be cracked. She didn’t believe any of them. Not until, in that moment, she became Margo. Shooing off the women “with an attitude” and pairing them with the men that were “in the mood” Alice came back to her challenger. Bowing deeply as they had done in the beginning she held her hand out for Margo and asked her to vogue. 

Alice saw the hesitation, but it was too quick and no one else would dare question their sovereign’s resolve. Margo bowed to Alice, deferring to her, and they picked up where they had left off with their _pas de deux_. It was lighter and more playful than before which was all about power and control. Alice hoped this was the beginning threads of a friendship. “Does that prove to you that the rumors are false?” Margo asked the hyped up crowd. She was met with a deafening cheer. 

The song lasted less than five minutes but a monumental shift occurred. The crowd was going wild as the two women bowed to the crowd. Alice tried to look for her boyfriend, thinking he was lurking just outside of the crowd but she couldn’t spot him. It could have been that they were both too short to be seen through the crowd. Alice should have been considering Quentin’s reaction but she was too wrapped up in the momentum of it all. She just wanted him to feel pride at her finally getting one up on Margo.

Before the crush of the crowd could descend upon them, Alice felt herself being tugged to the side of the room. Even in the dark corner Margo’s furious expression was clear. “What were you _thinking_ ?” The High Queen demanded. “How _dare_ you try and show me up, _at my own party_ nonetheless.”

“Try? I wasn’t _trying_ to do anything. What were _you_ trying to do, Margo?” Alice asserted drawing out the High Queen’s name into separate syllables. Alice would later recount that she gave the royal a chance to respond but in actuality the blonde barreled on. “I thought this would be a friendly competition. I’m not a stranger to mean girls pushing me down to keep them up. But I’m not your footstool!”

Alice turned away, ready to storm off, grab Quentin and leave this party. Maybe even go back to Chicago, Christmas tradition be damned. “Hey!” Margo’s grip was delicate but firm. It wasn’t trying to prove her physical prowess. Her good eye softened and years melted away from her face. “I… I like competition.” This was probably the most vulnerable that the Queen had been in some time. She was exposing herself to a person who she thought would understand putting on a mask and facing the world. 

Alice hesitated. She just wanted to leave Margo on “read”. Taking a breath and steeling her blue eyes she put on her haughtiest tone “Maybe you should be focusing on your country’s state of affairs instead.”

She couldn’t… Margo thought to herself. Quentin just _couldn’t_ have told Alice what was going on. Margo examined the blonde with her good eye. She was bluffing. She had to be. Lengthening her neck, Margo took a moment to compose herself. During their little performance, Margo had watched Eliot disappear around a corner. Stifling a smile, “maybe you should go find Quentin,” Margo suggested. 

“Yes. I think that would be best.” One of the leather clad men held Alice’s skirt out to her, nicely folded. Taking it with a little more force than necessary it whipped out of his hand and slipped it on. Alice pushed passed an innocently confused Fen holding three drinks. 

\---

Eliot had Quentin pressed against the wall of a broom closet. It was around the corner but the door was still left ajar. Quentin was sipping on a cocktail through a straw while Eliot’s fingers were brushing through his king’s hair. “Who knew our little Farrah had it in her…” 

Quentin nodded. “Right. B-but what do you think got into her? The music was good but nothing she hasn’t heard before. She didn’t eat any of Josh’s delicacies. M-maybe she was drunk. We-we did drink a lot. ...How many drinks did she have?” His voice was doing his rapid stutter that meant his mouth wasn’t able to keep up with his brain. 

Eliot’s fingers trailed down Quentin’s neck as he perched himself over his ex. “Does it matter? She’s having fun.” He desperately wanted to change the subject but when his peach got something in his head either he had to be led out or come out on his own.

“Body shots?” Quentin asked helplessly.

“You have to admit, those two together are a nice pairing. Unconventional but they fit like opposites. ...Like us.” Eliot grinned ruefully. 

“Yeah, they were cute together.” Quentin mused thinking about Alice and Fen dancing. Or did Eliot mean Margo? “Wait… what pairing?” 

Eliot growled into Quentin’s ear, “does it matter?”

It happened so fast for his drunken mind. He felt Eliot’s hot breath against his skin, his words ignored in favor of Alice’s soprano. The look on her face said he fucked up. His body registered how close Eliot was. That the breath meant lips were on skin and he was most certainly crossing a line. Eliot had been getting closer and closer. It was Eliot that pulled Quentin into the closet when Margo pulled Alice into her little game. Quentin hadn’t been happy that Alice was rising to Margo’s bait. Before he could make a decision on whether to try and step in or not Eliot had pulled him away saying something along the lines as if it was too loud or the women needed to dance it out. 

Quentin pulled out from Eliot’s embrace, one the High King was not particularly excited in rectifying. He took his time standing to his full height and straightening his clothes. Q didn’t see the smirk on his face as he chased after his girlfriend.

Alice was ready. She didn’t have her sweater but her coat was somewhere. It would be enough along with her thinned blood to keep her warm until they got to the towncar. What she didn’t expect to see was the High King’s tongue down her boyfriend’s ear. Just when she thought she had gotten to a good place. A place that she understood, this curveball was thrown at her face. Life really was throwing her to the wolves and if she didn’t go home now she doubted she would make it out alive. 

She barely registered the tears that began to stream down her face as she stomped up the main room. Music was still going but it was a much lighter and chill atmosphere. The majority of the guests were downstairs and it was a small thanks only a few people could report on her overall state. She hadn’t remembered taking off her coat or even where it would be. Was there a coat room? She had become accustomed to not carrying a purse but how was she supposed to get back to the castle? Would anyone believe her about who she was? Her face had just been televised to the entire country but watch that she get the one security guard that demands ID.

Alice was standing at the top of the landing of the upstairs. When did she get upstairs? Her eyes were trying to focus on the blurry face in front of her, their words garbled as if they were talking to her through water. It was Julia. She had met Julia the first week she arrived. Her face was filled with concern. Was something wrong? The strength of Julia’s grip started to bring Alice back to the present. Her mind had been over processing again. “Are you…” the words were coming to Alice broken “Alice...Taken?” 

“W-what?” It was a moment of clarity and her brain took it.

“Alice, are you okay? What have you taken?” Julia repeated. It sounded like she had asked her several times.

“I’m not on anything. I’ve just had a lot to drink.” She replied weakly.

“Did you get your drinks directly from the bartender?”

Alice nodded, “Eliot.” Julia’s face was not filled with the relief the blonde had expected. “I can’t find my coat…” She responded weakly.

“We’ll get your coat,” the brunette reassured. She took another breath, licking her lips, Julia knew how much Alice could not go out looking disheveled. She tried one more time. “Are you okay?”

Alice recognized how gentle her voice was. It was filled with concern. Sincere concern. Not drunken concern where inhibitions were lowered. Julia seemed like she was sober. How long had she been at the party? Did she see Alice dance? How _much_ did Julia see? “No…” Alice knew she should be strong. She was an outsider and drunken blubbering would not win her many points if she was going to stay. 

Stay? Was she still considering staying even after what she saw? Julia pulled gently guided her into another room. Alice half expected an orgy to be happening. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to go back to the castle right now.” When Alice tried to protest, Julia wasn’t having any of it. “ Too many people have stayed in this cottage who were in a worse circumstance. If anyone has a right to this space, it’s you. I’m going to go get you some water and then we’ll talk. Okay?”

Penny stood watch outside of the Alice’s makeshift bedroom. His tall stature was solid, his military training on full display. He watched as the three Royals made their way upstairs, arguing loudly. He stayed quiet through the insults they threw back and forth at each other. Quentin was called “too sensitive”, Eliot was accused of being crass borderline predatorial, and Margo for being a drama queen. Penny watched as they aired their dirty laundry for anyone to hear. It was always a tricky situation on whether a person could advise royalty if they weren’t in the position to do so. Their hierarchy might be ancient but the royal “family” was hardly as proper as their european counterparts. 

Quentin looked at Penny. Penny raised an eyebrow in response. He had to leave the service when he married his wife. Diplomats could not be active in the armed forces. He should have bowed. But, it was a well known secret that Penny and Quentin did not get along. “Is Alice in there?” Quentin asked, trying to muster up as much authority as possible.

“She is. She’s with the duchess.” Penny looked at Margo and Eliot and bowed. 

Quentin pinched his nose at the obvious slight. “Could you please move?”

“That isn’t advised, your highness.” Quentin wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He tried to push past the taller man when a large hand on his chest stopped him. “Dude.” The following silence could be cut with a knife. If Penny had done that to Margo or Eliot his hand would be removed in punishment. Quentin had the same authority but he wasn’t one to throw his rank around. None of the trio were. Quentin didn’t look at the hand, just felt it be removed as he looked Penny in the eye. “Look,” Penny began quietly “let them talk. While you three figure this out between you.” His eyes darted to the monarchs. “I’ll have Julia come and get you when Alice is ready.” 

Without looking to Margo and Eliot, Quentin asked Penny which rooms were vacant. If Penny were guarding a member of the court and the girlfriend of the monarch then it was assumed Penny did a sweep around the floor to make sure both were safe. Penny pointed to a room. “Will you be here all night?”

“I’ll be here as long as I’m needed.” It wasn’t a yes and Quentin knew that. He couldn’t demand that the consort to the royal court stand guard. It was the closest he was going to get to protocol. Going out and trying to find someone who had security clearance was too much effort than Quentin wanted to dedicate. The house was safe, and the doors had locks. He simply nodded at Penny, “will you let them know what room I am in?” At Penny’s nod he turned on his heel and with a disgusted glance at his fellow leaders went into the empty room and shut the door.

\---

The cottage had long gone quiet when he heard a particular beat against the door.

_ rat-ta-ta-ta, rat-ta-ta-ta, rat-ta-ta-ta ta-ta ta-ta ta-ta _

It was Jules. “Come in,” he called softly. 

She opened the door with a “hey”. He was reading a book he had found, his eyes avoiding hers out of embarrassment. “How is she?”

“She’s… sobering up.” Julia sat on the foot of the bed. After a beat Julia asked, “What happened?”

“One of Eliot and Margo’s ragers.” It had been a catch-all before, why should this time be any different?

“Were you making out with Eliot?” Julia pressed.

“Gods no!” The fervor was unexpected even for Q. Sitting up he dragged a hand through his sweat dried hair. “Margo had one of her famous dance ‘competitions’.” Both Quentin and Julia rolled their eyes. Julia had been subjugated to that treatment too. It was juvenile and bullish. “Before I could intervene Eliot had pulled me away to ‘talk’. I can’t believe I was so stupid.” 

“You know how he is. It’s not entirely your fault but you have some blame,” she pointed out. At his incredulous look she continued. “If you really wanted to intervene Eliot wouldn’t have stopped you. So, why did you let him pull you away?”

“This isn’t… it’s not Alice and I’s scene. We don’t go to raves or clubs back home. We go to open mic nights that end at ten the latest. We’re like an old married couple…” He smiled to himself at that. He loved her so much. “I thought this would be too much for her.  _ Usually it is _ ! She even said that she only expected to stay a half an hour. Then… I don’t know. Fen pulled her onto the dance floor and then Eliot had tequila shots brought over and the four of us were dancing  _ together _ . She just… she just became this person I didn’t know. I  _ liked _ what I saw but I didn’t know if it was an act or if she had been hiding herself from me… and I don’t know…”

“What?” Julia laughed. “You got  _ jealous _ ? Come on Q.”

“No! I felt like I was being left behind…  _ again _ .” 

“No one is leaving you behind, Q.” She reassured. “Alice and I had a very nice talk. This is a big change for her. She’s conflicted. You  _ know _ this. She doesn’t want to be cooped up in the library but she doesn’t feel comfortable going anywhere else.”

“What do I do Jules?” He was sitting up, the book long forgotten; in honesty, it wasn’t memorable to begin with. “How bad have I fucked this up?” His puppy dog brown eyes filled with anxiety and sadness. 

“First thing is to be lucky that she thinks Eliot and Margo are just assholes and that they aren’t trying to marry you off the Eliot.” Quentin’s eyes were wide with fear. Julia put a hand up silencing him. “Do you really think Ess can keep his mouth shut? Secondly, for someone as astute as Alice is, she is blinded by love. She has no idea you went home to get your family’s engagement ring.”

“How did…?”

“Que, I know you. You’re lucky that she’s not willing to walk away so easily. But you have got some major reparations to make. And I’m not talking about falling on a sword either.” Julia patted Quentin’s knee. “She has been cooped up and thrown into a world one can only read in a book or see in a movie. If you ask her to marry you, and she hasn’t experienced everything, can you honestly say she’s marrying all of you?”

Julia didn’t need to see her friend’s affirmation to know she was right. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now,” Julia sighed. “She’s sleeping. Penny and I are staying here tonight. We had the staff kick out a threesome and make up a room. You know how Penny sleeps with one eye open so Alice will be taken care of. Get some rest and don’t do your wait inside your room until you hear her stirring and ‘accidentally’ run into her. She  _ needs _ space. We’ll take her back to the palace and she’s going to pack a small bag and be a tourist for a few days.”

As Julia stood and walked to the door, Quentin’s voice came to her softly. “Thank you. You… you didn’t have to. I owe you.”

“You owe  _ Alice _ . And Fillory and further right?”

“Fillory and further.” It was their secret phrase. The phrase they said when they knew they were trapped but wanted to be free. To tell themselves they could have the whole world even if they could only experience from a castle spire.

Julia opened the door a crack and paused. She didn’t look at her friend, because it could be seen as a betrayal to the woman she just helped. “She’s going to the South Quadrant.” And with that, Julia was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

Penny and Julia made sure that Alice was well taken care of the next day. They let her sleep as long as she needed. She was still sleeping off her hangover when Quentin woke up. He didn’t have a chance to try the little trick Julia warned him not to do. Instead, Julia cornered him, told him that she wasn’t up and that he needed to go home. He and Eliot needed to straighten things out. She promised that she would look after Alice for him.

Sure enough, they had coffee and aspirin waiting for her when she woke up and a sweater so she could be presentable. She was able to shower and freshen up at the cottage before going back to the palace. The car ride was quiet, mostly because Alice thought she might get sick if she tried to move or open her eyes. This, she reminded herself, was why she did not go out. 

Penny stood watch outside of her door as Julia helped Alice pack a small bag. She gave Alice her phone number in case there was anything she needed. She didn’t want Alice to become dependent on the throne or the monarchy. Margo, Eliot, and even Fen were aware to keep their distance. Josh was the only one who was allowed to visit and that was to bring food. He made his apologies for Margo and tried to reassure her that no one thought less of Alice. But, in doing so, confirmed that anyone who was “in the know” knew what had happened. 

Julia did her best to assuage the anxiety bubbling inside Alice by talking about how beautiful the country was and how the SQ was the best place to be going. It was the one place she would have anonymity. With her bag packed and the chauffeur waiting with the door open, Alice took one last glance in hopes that Quentin would come running out. Julia’s expectant gaze let her know that that wouldn’t be happening. 

Julia had made all of the arrangements, setting Alice up in a nice and quiet bed and breakfast. If the owner recognized her he made no mention of it. He invited her to tea and asked her many questions about America. His English was just as broken as her Fillorian but for the first time, Alice felt a smile on her face. She found out he had a daughter who lived in the capitol but came back once a month to visit. His daughter had someone new in her life and she was planning on proposing. Even in a progressive European country where two of the monarchs of the same sex had a dalliance, such an event was still a very new concept. It wasn’t that his daughter was in love with another woman. It was that he and his wife wanted grandchildren and they weren’t sure how that would happen. Alice responded along the lines that even in death, the Magician Queen would never let her subjects experience unnecessary heartbreak. He gave her a knowing look in response.

The evening was quiet and she took the time to catch up on emails, thankful the B&B had Wi-fi. Her editor had notes for her and she worked as much as her brain would allow. When the owner, Heinrich, knocked on her door with dinner, he told her “Dinner come, work finished”, and Alice was more than happy to oblige.

While watching a Fillorian TV show that, thankfully, had subtitles she had one last visitor. Olga, Heinrich’s wife, brought her up some cocoa. Alice, in only a few hours, had come to realize she was not allowed to refuse any hospitality. But really, who would want to? Where Heinrich was talkative, Olga was quiet. She was a robust woman dedicated to her work. “ _ Komm zu mir bitte _ ?” Alice invited. 

The two sat in a comfortable silence. It had begun to snow again and the lights of the town glistened over the silky powder. For the first time since she left, Alice thought about Quentin. She thought about the hut on the castle grounds that they snuck away to. She wondered how many times had he been south and what had brought him here. The rattling of dishes pulled her attention away and she found her own mug was empty. She handed it to Olga’s expectant platter. 

Olga gave her guest a relaxed smile and a short “Thank you. Good night.” Before wandering off.

\---

The next morning showed how many guests Alice’s quiet B&B had. What she thought was a small house turned out to be quite a hotel. There were people from all over Europe; the UK, Paris, Italy, Germany, and Switzerland; a nice elderly Japanese couple; and, even a family from Texas. For once, Alice didn’t have the urge to inspect her surroundings. The main room, dining room, and her room was all she cared about. That and that her room’s bathroom had heated floors and a bathtub with jets.

The quadrant however was different. Alice wanted to see everything there was in this part of the country. It was the smallest of the quadrant but it had its own distinct personality. The Christmas Tour came here last and Alice wasn’t sure if she would stay until then or make her way back. She did promise Julia that when she was ready to talk to Quentin it would be done face to face and not over text or Skype. 

Alice had an itinerary in her head: Christmas shopping, research for her book, and to find out as much about Engela as possible. 

The city of Balzers, the largest and capital city of the South Quadrant, was a mix of modern and medieval. It sat in a valley of mountains along three sides. Buildings could easily be dated hundreds of years but modern conveniences were everywhere. Wi-fi connected the entire city, she learned, because cell phone towers would ruin the landscape. Even though cars drove down two lane roads most walked. Snow crunched under her feet and her hot breath came out in puffs as she passed residents and tourists. Construction crews dotted around town getting ready for their tour night. Fake candles and lights were being hung for their theme of “1000 Candles”. 

Alice took a deep breath of the winter air. It was so clean and crisp she just wanted to jar it all up and send it home. Like Christmas magic, the shop she happened to stop in front of was a candle maker advertising “Native Fillorian Scents”. In the traffic congested Chicago being able to light a candle that recreated the feeling of that moment would be an absolute gift.

With all that Alice was buying it was getting to be a little too much to carry. Lunchtime was fast approaching and though the B&B didn’t serve lunch there were little cafes to enjoy the atmosphere and local cuisine. Looking at all she had accumulated she was either going to need another suitcase or to ship it home. What were the duty fees going to be like?  _ Stop it _ ! she chastised herself. Now was not the time to get bogged down by logistics. This was her time to be alone and explore and learn about the one thing no one would talk to her about. 

Every time she brought up the fourth line Quentin had artfully distracted her or changed the subject. Though he took her to their wing of the palace it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t allowed to spend any time in there and she deduced that if she had it was likely that everything would have already been cleaned out. 

Upon dropping her things off in her room, Heinrich told her about Burg Zauberin the castle that was erected for Engela to live in. It was rich in history and if she wanted to really know who their ancient queen was then it was the best place to learn. When Alice inquired about her journals, he smiled and waved her off. “To know the true nature of a person is to experience how she treats those beneath her.” 

It was a popular tourist attraction and the afternoons were when most visitors came. Today was no exception. There were tours every hour on the hour that lasted 90 minutes. There was an option for a self-guided tour if you downloaded their app. Alice elected to go on the main tour, hoping she could just sink in with the crowds. If she had time today then she would do her own exploring. The problem with a self-guided tour was there was no one to really ask questions. However, given her job as a historian she knew she would have many questions and those questions would most likely be above the pay grade of the tour guide. 

The ticket attendant, when Alice paid for her admission, gave her a strange elated look. It was confusing when she said in wonderful English “Enjoy your tour!” As she joined the line for her tour she felt a tap on her shoulder. A very tall and handsome man was nervously waiting behind her. “Pardon me, miss,” he greeted, his accent thick. “I am Vance Hensel, the curator of this castle.”

“Hallo!” Alice smiled. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by his stature. He was tall and broad shouldered. His hair was a beautiful golden blonde and his ice blue eyes sparkled. As he looked at her patiently she grew anxious. “Is there… something wrong?”

He motioned off to the side, out of the queue. “If you please?” 

Daintily she followed his instructions and she could hear whispers from the crowd. Thoughts ran through her head of what she could say and threaten. It was very much in her nature to be demanding when needed. And sometimes when it wasn’t warranted.

“I apologize for the mysteriousness. I do not mean to embarrass you.” His kind smile put Alice at ease. “Please, do not be upset when I say that I know who you are. I wanted to welcome you personally.” Vance bowed to her slightly in reverence.

“Oh, no… You don’t need to do that. I know I’m no one.” She looked around to see if anyone was watching. The tour had left so they were alone.

“You are most certainly not ‘no one’.” Vance said pointedly. Alice cocked her head to the side perplexed. He made no mention of Quentin or her connection to the Sovereign King. Surely he would have mentioned her boyfriend. “If you would allow, I am aware of your achievements in academia that I would like to take you on a tour myself. You must have many questions and I do not want you to hide your compulsion to ask. I might, if I am good enough, answer them before you ask.” 

Alice took a beat. Here was a man, educated and handsome, who shared a major common interest with her. If he hadn’t have said that he knew her already she might think he was hitting on her. “I would appreciate that very much.” 

Vance took his time on the tour making sure she could look at every nook and painting she wanted for as long as she wanted. The castle wasn’t built by indentured servants like the other castles in the country. Engela, very progressive for her time period, and any age really, chose to pay the workers a decent wage. She alone was not wealthy but she pulled from the treasury keeping an itemized list and investing in Fillorian tradesmen instead of bringing in those from Italy or France. The investment paid off with how long the fortification survived alone. Because, along with the main palace it was the only castle to survive from the time it was built. Modern conveniences like heating, air conditioning, and indoor plumbing were added as time went on. Engela left specific instructions that anyone working on the palace must be of Fillorian decent and the integrity of the original design could not be compromised.

The castle stayed inhabited until the late 18th century when the government truly centralized and the principalities came together in the central palace. Part of the decision to bring the monarchs together were that the other castles came under siege to the point they could not be repaired. Their ruins, Alice learned, still stood as landmarks to visit. 

The library from Burg Zaubrin had been transported to the library Alice had the privilege of studying in. The books were too valuable to put out front for everyone during a tour as there was a high probability of theft. Vance explained that he wanted to show the fourth line through the ages. Most highlighted the life of Engela and her daughter but a lot of furniture and decor was from the 17th and 18th centuries. They didn’t follow the main tour path, instead, Vance took her through what he hypothesized would have been the paths the royals would have taken in their day to day lives. 

Long after her original tour ended, Vance had not stopped giving her his private tour. She did not stop for lunch before coming thinking the tour wouldn’t last so long. As if reading her mind, or possibly interpreting the sounds from her stomach, the handsome curator asked her to lunch. There was a small cafe next to the small fortress with great delicacies from Fillory. Not wanting to end the conversation and not thinking that anyone would truly notice her actions she accepted.

Alice found Vance to be incredibly charming. He was attentive and listened to her. They spoke candidly about their love of history and secret desire to travel in time to get the fuller picture. They discussed what their roles would have been during certain periods knowing that good and bad was not so cut and dry. He was right about the food. Josh’s creations were masterpieces but sometimes food on a stick was where life revolved. The spices were a mixture of Slovic, German, and North African. Bay leaves, dill, cumin, saffron and cloves ran over her palate. It almost rivaled her doughnuts and bacon.

Their conversation continued back to Engela’s castle never stopping or skipping a beat. What mesmerized Alice the most about Vance was the access he gave her. He shut down the chapel which was one of the main tourist draw to allow her to sit on Engela’s throne. The chapel was how the palace first began. It was built to be Christian in nature but Engela wanted it to represent all faiths that may come through their territory. Faiths like Islam and Asatru and Celtic Druidity had their symbols represented in the chapel itself. 

Unlike the perspective from the throne at the main palace this throne was higher and allowed her to survey all before her. It was such an interesting vantage point. The occupant could give more attention to those in the back of the room than the person speaking to them. There was a familiarity to the situation. More than just remembering how she had sat on the fourth throne thinking it was Quentin’s. Alice stood quickly, much too quickly to obfuscate her thoughts.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” Vance asked. 

“Yes. Yes it is. But I am not your ‘lady’.” Alice replied quickly, wringing her hands as she began to storm off. “My name is Alice.”

“Of course Alice, I meant no disrespect.” Vance apologized sincerely.

“Yes. Well. I think I have overstayed my welcome. This… I don’t wish to intrude any longer.” With that she walked stridently towards the door. Vance’s long legs still had to carry him quickly to catch up. 

“Wait! Please.” He didn’t hold the door closed, he just stood before her, an innocent expression on his face. “I know that you do not know much about our country. I also know that you have been doing much research into our ancient queen. I simply wanted to give you an experience that might bring you closer to her.” He bowed deeply, bending at his waist instead of his shoulders when he made her acquaintance. “If you will allow me… there is one more thing I wish to show you. Something I think will put much trepidation aside.

Alice followed him with caution until they came back to the library. It was one of the first rooms they visited as it is one of the most sought after. What the tour didn’t show was the hidden passageway at the north end of the room. Moving the tapestry before it, Vance took Alice by the hand and brought her across the threshold. It was small, only big enough for one person to truly enjoy. In the middle sat a small desk and lining the shelves were books ancient that they had been made by hand. The condition was not the best, obviously used and beloved by their previous owners. However, they were not kept in the same condition as the books at the Palace that Zelda guarded. 

Vance handed her a pair of white gloves. “Welcome to the Zaubrin Bible.” 

Alice had heard of the Zaubrin Bible. To any lay person it was a myth. A book that contained all of the doctrine of all of the religions being practiced in Europe. Everything combined to make one book of morality. To anyone at her level of study it was a lost artifact that could get your ridiculed if you tried to search for it but respect if you actually made headway. In every Medieval Religion class someone brought it up. Either hearing about it on the History Channel or from stories some atheist used to disprove the existence of God. 

A butterfly stand sat on the desk, empty. “Where is it?” Alice asked. 

Vance simply opened his hands to indicate the room. “Engela had a passion for understanding how the world worked. Why herbs cured illness and others caused it. Why did energy emanate from every living thing and some non and what was ‘energy’? So, she collected every religious tome she could find. Every version of the Bible,” Vance showed her an entire shelf. Some books were just singular books of the Bible and others were in stages of the Nicene Councils. “Torah, Quran, and Grimoires she could find. Now…” He stepped over to a shelf and tapped on a few books before finding the one he was looking for. It was smaller than Alice had imagined. Thicker than most books but it wasn’t anything particularly grand. “This is what everyone believes to be ‘The Zaubrin Bible’.” He laid it gently on the stand and pulled out the chair for Alice to sit.

Inside there were some pictures but they were small and most images were of small symbols and icons. It was written in Koine Greek, the first language of the Christian Bible. Alice handled each page gingerly and throughout she could read passages she knew to be from many places. It was like a ‘best hits’ of religion. “I could-”

“read this all day?” Vance finished with a smile.

“I have and it is mesmerizing. She brings an insight and understanding that is still felt to this day. Historians and religious scholars have read its pages to understand words they had long memorized and believed they knew the meaning until they saw it through her eyes.”

“It’s a myth back home. No one wants to believe it’s real but no one wants to admit they believe it exists in the first place. And I am here… holding it…  _ reading it _ .” Alice breathed softly, careful that it might disintegrate in her hands. “How is it kept in such condition?” It was not as if it had never been opened but the pages were not frayed and the yellow from age was minimal.

“This room is the perfect atmosphere for storing books. She had it built shortly before her passing. Something to be able to hold her treasures for generations to come. No one knows how she came to understand the mechanics. Some call it divine intervention. Others they call it, as you Americans say, ‘dumb luck’.”

“Why do you not print this and share it with the world?”

“Who says that we have not?” It was cryptic and Alice could not penetrate his eyes to see beneath the meaning. “My Lady, for as long as you visit you will be welcome to this room. It is all I can give to the future Sovereign Consort.”

Future Sovereign consort? The country must really like her. Her and Quentin had  _ never _ discussed marriage and Alice chalked this up to what fame must feel like. Outsiders thinking they know your life and understand it when they can’t even begin to scratch the surface. “Thank you Mr. Hensel. I will most certainly take you up on that offer.”


	14. Chapter 14

A bell rang against the glass and wooden door that entered into the old shop. The warmth was easy and welcomed. Alice slipped off her gloves and looked around. Everywhere was wool. Wool coats, gloves, scarves, sweaters, yarn, and even just baskets of shearing. This… this had to be a fire hazard. An older woman came from the back yelling “ _Guten Tag_!” Alice could hear the labored footsteps as she came from the back of the shop. 

She called back her greeting. “ _Wie geht es Ihnen heute_?” 

“ _Gut… Gut…_ ” The elderly woman labored as she finally emerged. 

Alice, in her adventures beyond the palace grounds had learned to quickly interject that she couldn’t speak the language beyond what she had just spoken. “ _Verzeihung_ ! Um… _Fremde_ . _Englisch_?” Her hopeful eyes stared at the woman as she watched the color drain from her face. 

“ _Nein_ … _Nein_ …” The woman gripped the banister tightly as she pushed her way up to the landing. She drew a symbol over her forehead and then another over her heart. Shuffling over to Alice she began to weep with joy and repeating something in Fillorian that Alice couldn’t understand. Before Alice could calm the woman, she was found in a strong embrace. The frailty was misleading against the strength of the hug.

Alice stood motionless, she hated to be touched by strangers. She went out of her way to make sure she didn’t have to hug or kiss or shake hands with anyone. She liked to keep a safe distance by putting on an aloof air warding people away. This woman, however, had no shame. Or recognition of body language. Once the hug was over, Alice looked at the tear stained wrinkled cheeks and the felt the gnarled hands against her own. “Every day, I pray. I pray to The Mistress. I pray she comes back and here you stand. What blessings!” She kissed Alice’s cheeks vivaciously.

“I-I… I don’t think I am… who you think I am…” Alice managed to get out quickly. 

The woman waved her away and moved to go back down the stairs she had once come from. “Bah! We are never who we think we are.” It was just as cryptic as Vance’s words.

“No… _Mein Name ist_ Alice.” She said slowly, making sure to pronounce the words correctly.

“I know of your name. You are the friend of our Sovereign.” She waved Alice to follow. “Come. I make you _schokolade_.”

Alice followed, if only to make sure the old woman didn’t trip and break herself. “Then why…?” She began once they came to the bottom of the store. It was a kitchen with a wooden table in the middle and benches for chairs. Off to the back was a stairway that Alice believed went to the residences.

“Why? My dear?” It took a moment but the old woman smiled “My mind goes with the birds sometimes.” She threw another log into the wood stove.

Alice removed her coat against the heat and gingerly sat at the table. She wasn’t sure if this was a Cinderella type thing or a Hansel and Grettel one. Taking a deep breath she looked at the room around her. It was unchanged for many many decades. The sink had running water and she saw a fridge in the corner. So there was electricity. The room smelled like herbs and roasted vegetables. Alice wondered if anyone lived here with the woman. Where was her children or her husband? 

The old woman sat a mug of hot chocolate in front of Alice. There was whipped cream dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg on top. “ _Trinken_ ! _Trinken_ !” She commanded. Alice took a sip, the whipped cream dolloping her nose and coating her upper lip. The taste was absolutely exquisite. She had never tasted anything so amazing in her life. She looked at the old woman with new eyes. It was as if she was a kind grandmother simply wanting to care for those younger than she. “It is _gut_ , yes?” There was a hopefulness to her voice like she didn’t know she had perfected one of the world’s most beloved beverages. 

“It is _sehr gut_ ,” Alice breathed. A breeze of air came over her eyes and she realized how rude she had been to her host. “I am so sorry! I do not know your name.”

“You may call me Oma,” Oma smiled.

“Where did you learn how to make this?” Alice asked and Oma simply shrugged. 

“Traders come, they bring their wares, I make what I can.” 

“Have you always been in the wool trade?” Alice asked.

“Oh _Ja_. I also make little salves and poultices for people when they ask. My hands… they are not as good now. But I make what I can and I am happy.” She smiled contentedly.

The two talked about Oma’s life and where she had traveled. Her husband passed away over twenty years ago but she said his presence was always with her. It was an easy conversation and one that Alice hadn’t realized she had longed for. Stephanie had passed almost fifteen years prior by Alice’s account and even though the two didn’t get along very well Alice was still young. It wasn’t enough time for them to build a bond beyond a young girl and her mother. She didn’t know anyone on her mother’s side and her paternal grandparents had died when she was too young to know them. It was hard to remember a time when it wasn’t just her and her father.

“Oma… Can I ask you something?”

“It is about _jungs_ , _ja_?” Her eyes twinkled. It must have been some time since the older woman had girl talk.

“ _Ja_ ,” Alice blushed.

“You want to know if you should be with Sovereign or Curator.” Oma’s eyes turned sharp and lucid, young even.

“What...?”

“It is a small village.” Oma shrugged. “Gossip travels very fast.”

“I don’t want to choose. I love Quentin. But… Vance. He gave me a gift. A gift that Quentin also gave me.” Oma stayed quiet letting Alice take her time. “It was a library. Not just any library. I have been able to study in the Palace’s library and read books that were written hundreds of years ago. Even if Zelda is very zealous over them.”

“You know Zelda is from here. I remember her when she was young. She always had her nose in a book. Held very small,” Oma demonstrated “so not to bend it wrong.”

Alice chuckled. That was certainly Zelda. “Well Vance… he took me to this secret room. I got to see the... Zaubrin Bible.” Alice whispered. “He told me I could come any time I wanted to read it.”

“That sounds like dream come true. It has been so many years since I have seen it for myself.”

“You’ve seen it?!” Alice quickly covered her mouth after her shriek. 

“Oh _ja_! It was on display for very long time. But you do not seem happy about having this access.” Oma pressed.

“Oh, I am! I just… I feel like everyone wants to keep me in a library.” Alice finished her hot chocolate.

Oma reached out and took Alice’s hands into her own. The gnarled fingers had never shied away from a hard day’s work. There was strength in the fragile fingers and they held Alice firm in place. Oma’s ice blue eyes look directly into her younger counterpart’s. “No matter how secure a man may be he will always fear a strong woman.”

“But Quentin isn’t like that! He supports me and encourages me. He takes care of me.”

“And has he done those things while he has been King?” It didn’t take an old woman’s wisdom to understand Alice’s silence. “There are things about his life that you will never know unless you find it yourself. You must walk that path like so many before you.

“You have spent your life studying places and times that you will never be able to visit. Let me ask you one question. Why do you fear the future?”

\---

Quentin walked into the dining hall and found Eliot waiting for him at the table. Quentin took one look at his ex and said “nope!” He turned on his heel walking out. He wasn’t going to be in an ambush. He didn’t care what Eliot had prepared, or what gifts he might bestow, and he definitely wasn’t interested in what Eliot had to say.

“Q, I’m sorry!” Eliot shouted.

Okay, maybe there was one thing he was interested in hearing. Quentin stopped but didn’t look at his High King. “What are you sorry for, Eliot?”

“Please,” Eliot pleaded, “can we have a nice breakfast together? I had Josh make your favorites.” 

Quentin peeked at the table. Sure enough there was a plate of Eggs Benedict sitting perfectly plated. “...It better not be soggy.” He walked over to the table, his mood darkening for having to share a table with Eliot.

“Is it ever?” Eliot held out a seat for Quentin and Quentin decided that he’d rather sit somewhere else, snubbing the gesture. 

The seat he chose faced Eliot directly. _Dammit_! Eliot wasn’t that smart to plan that switch. Mostly because the width of the table didn’t allow for Eliot to touch Quentin and Eliot liked to express himself physically.

Eliot pulled sat in his chair and sighed at Quentin’s behavior. He watched Quentin stab and try and saw through the delicacy. Josh’s eggs were always soft like butter and the hollandaise sauce softened the toasted muffin just enough for the knife to slide right through. “How many times do I have to say ‘I’m sorry’?!”

“Considering it’s been three days and this is the first time? A lot more.” Quentin looked at his ex pointedly. He couldn’t believe that he tried to come onto him. Yes, he and Fen had an open relationship but that was between them and did _not_ include Quentin. 

“I should have apologized that night.” Eliot confessed.

“Yes but instead you and Margo decided to have an argument minimizing what happened.”

“What did I do?” Margo sauntered in dressed stylishly albeit conservatively for her usual tastes.

“Q is still upset over what happened at the party,” Eliot drawled. 

“What? Why?” Margo laid a napkin over her lap.

The sound of silverware hitting the table making the glasses and plates rattle silenced the two High Royals. “Because I have every fucking right to be! Alice isn’t here because of you two! You,” he pointed his fork at Margo “With your ‘competitions’, and you,” he pointed his knife to Eliot and took a breath, “you crossed a line. You _both_ crossed a line. Now I have to sit here, do my job, and hopefully wait for Alice to come back.” 

“Q, we’re just looking out for you. Are you sure someone like Alice could handle a life like this? I mean, she’s kept herself in the library this whole time. Unless you’re taking her out, she hides herself like a little mouse.” Margo put on that faux pouty bit that usually worked with everyone who didn’t know her and sometimes those who did. 

“She’s there partly because I put her there,” he said guiltily. “She had her book to finish and she wanted to add Fillory to it. Instead, keeping her there only pushed her away. Now I’m afraid that she’s going to find out what we’ve been hiding this whole time.”

“Quentin, she’s been in that library almost every day and if she hasn’t found out now I don’t think she’s going to. Besides, why wallow waiting for her when you can have fun while she’s going?” Margo smiled coquettishly.

Quentin looked between the two, “did you… did you put him up to this?”

Margo wasn’t about to admit guilt, “maybe you wanted to go into that closet for a reason? I mean, Eliot did help you come out of it.”

Eliot put a hand on Margo’s shoulder, she was being too combative and it was his turn to play peacekeeper. He reached out for Quentin’s hand, but it was snatched away. “Q…”

“No. You don’t get to do that anymore. You lost that privilege, remember?” Quentin wanted to become more serious but Eliot was either afraid or knew something that neither consciously knew at the time. Quentin had to leave. So, Eliot staged himself to be found with someone else in their bed. It was the push that Quentin needed to distance himself from his High King and eventually leave. They knew that Eliot had always been promised to another but neither could accept the fate. 

Now, Quentin was back, Eliot was happy with his marriage arrangement and so why couldn’t they try again? Except for the fact that Quentin was absolutely in love with Alice Quinn. Eliot had never been jealous of anyone, except for when he deeply was, but he was never going to let anyone see that side of him. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to lose _you_ , Q.”

“Oh no? If you fucked this up between me and Alice, you really will. I don’t care what kind of relationship you have with Fen, but it doesn’t include me, or Alice!”

Margo and Eliot shared a look. “Bambi…” Eliot began warningly.

“He has a right to know El.”

“Know what?” Quentin pressed.

Margo slipped her phone over to him. It was opened to a picture on Instagram of Alice having lunch with another man. “His name is Vance and he’s the curator of Burg Zaubrin.” she said gently. She was acting as if this was the end and she was truly sorry for it.

“This doesn’t mean anything. I know where she is. Julia told me. She wanted to learn more about the lost line. She meets people like this all the time. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I said she couldn’t have lunch with a man other than me?” Quentin stood, his chair scraping against the floor. He held up his hands to keep the servants from trying to help him. “I’m happy she found a friend.”

“Q, you have to think of the bigger picture,” Margo pressed.

“I am, ‘Go. You aren’t listen to me. I _will_ leave. For good this time. I will leave with Alice and _never_ look back.” Quentin left them with their jaws on their plates.

After Quentin had gone Fen entered dressed for the day. She curtsied to her High Queen and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Good morning, Dear.”

“Good morning my lovely wife,” Eliot smiled concealing the truth bomb that just exploded. Snapping his fingers a plate of food was quickly placed in front of Fen with new silverware. “What are your plans for today?”

“I’m going to the orphanage today. You’re free to join me.” She groaned happily at the breakfast.

“I can’t today. Quentin just dropped a load of info on us and we have to work through it. But, good news for you, we might have another joining our little family!”

Fen giggled, “I’m just going to the orphanage, I’m not looking to actually bring them home! Besides… we said that _we_ would have our own family.” She blushed hotly at the thought.

“No silly!” Margo interjected. “What would you think about becoming the Sovereign Queen?”

Fen swallowed her food hard. “Me? Why me?”

“Well, Alice might not be in the picture for very much longer and you know that Quentin and I have a past… Of course I wouldn’t do anything without your approval, my darling,” Eliot persuaded. 

“I like Alice though and her and Quentin seem like they are very much in love, even if they are having a spat. What if the descendant of the fourth line comes back?”

“The laws will have changed by then,” Margo answered quickly.

Eliot squeezed his wife’s hand. “Will you think about it? This could be your dream come true!”

Fen looked at Eliot quizzically. He knew her better than anyone else and he most certainly knew that ruling was not a dream of hers. She took up the office to look after her people but to be queen? That was the last thing she wanted. Was he forgetting that through them trying to look for loopholes on how to get out of their arranged marriage it was what brought them closer? Fen finished her meal in silence. Smiling politely when the two tried to involve her in conversation. She needed to find Alice.


	15. Chapter 15

Alice spent the next few days seeing the sights of the South Quadrant, studying the Zaubrin Bible (copying as much as she could because she wasn’t allowed to take pictures), and visiting with Oma. Each night Oma would make her hot chocolate or tea and even began to teach Alice how to knit. Alice thought of Kady and how many orgasms her friend would have over the textiles of the place.

They talked about Alice’s childhood, her mother’s tragic passing, and how she got into religious history. Alice found out that Oma was married to a livestock farmer of goats, sheep, and cows. All of the wool she sold came from the sheep they raised. After her husband’s death she sold the herds as long as they promised to give her the wool they procured. She spent most of her time spinning and dying the wool into yarn. She made some things but her hands were getting too tired to keep up with any demand. 

One night, the last night, there was a chill in the normally cozy shop. Oma took her Alice’s face into her hands, “Oh  _ mein Engela _ ,” she said. Alice had come to know that Engela meant “Angel” in English so she thought nothing of the name. “That path I said you must walk? It is coming. Time stands still for no one. No matter how hard we try, we are never stagnant. Do not fear the future,  _ mein engela _ .” 

Oma pulled out a step stool and reached high on a shelf pulling down a wooden box. It was handcrafted with a carving of two rams facing each other. Like all things in Oma’s home this too had a story. One that Alice hoped she would find out one day. Inside the box was a little leather bound book. “This has been in my family for many many years. It is now yours.” 

“Oh Oma,” Alice breathed. “I couldn’t. What about your family?”

“You are my family.” Tears shone in her eyes. “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything!” 

“Do not open that book yet. It will tell you when to look inside its pages.” She kissed Alice’s cheeks. “Oh,  _ mein enkelin _ . I am an old woman do not let our parting be of sorrow.”

“I’m going to come and visit you, Oma!” Alice said with much conviction.

Oma traced the same symbols onto Alice’s forehead and heart as she did to herself at their first meeting. “And I will always be with you.” Alice couldn’t refute the energy she felt come from Oma’s fingertips. It was as if she touched a live wire. Quickly she embraced Oma in a tight hug. The feeling that this would be the last time she would see the old woman was too overwhelming. Just a few more moments was all she wanted. But those moments would keep her stagnant and Oma’s wisdom won out. Oma pushed her towards the door. “Go. Your path is waiting. All you must do is take a step.”

\---

Quentin entered his office to the sight of Fen pacing in his office. Her tulip skirt swishing with every step. She chewed on a manicured nail and was inaudibly muttering something in Fillorian. “Fen? What do I owe this pleasure?” He smiled kindly speaking in their native tongue. He always liked Fen. They were very similar with their outlooks on life and their love of their country. They never really got to hang out just by themselves. Either one was with Eliot and he always took precedence. Unlike Margo and Eliot, Quentin and Fen almost always exclusively spoke in Fillorian to each other. It was their way of staying connected. It was their “thing”.

She curtsied quickly and he rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Habit.” Even after all this time. “But I wanted to apologize. I didn’t realize that Alice wasn’t a party girl. I shouldn’t have contributed.” She ducked her head in reverence. 

Quentin took her by the arms and smiled warmly to her. “You have nothing to apologize for. At least not to me. Have you talked to Alice?” While Q believed that Fen had nothing to apologize to Alice for, it was still a good gesture to make.

“I’ve texted her like a thousand times. She says I have nothing to apologize for either. But… Maybe if I hadn’t pushed?” Fen’s nose crinkled and her brows furrowed with anxiety. “You know how I get when I have party favors in me.” 

Quentin moved to his desk. “If Alice says there is nothing to apologize for then believe it. She’s very straightforward and not in the way that Margo is. Alice is sincere and I really love that about her.” He looked at the picture of the two of them on his desk. He didn’t think Alice even knew they had it. One one side was a “nice” one with him standing behind her, his arms around her shoulders. The other side of the frame was a crazy one from a photo booth with silly hats and props. She absolutely sparkled to him.

Fen breathed a small sigh of relief. “I’m really glad you said that. I can put my mind at ease. Especially since there’s something else I need to talk to you about.” Quentin raised an eyebrow. What else could they possibly need to discuss? Fen placed both of her hands on his desk, bending over to him. “Please don’t marry my husband.”

Quentin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Maybe if he pressed hard enough his eyes would pop. He let out a slew of Fillorian curses before inhaling through his nose deeply and looking at Fen with as much apathy as he could muster. “Fen, I don’t want to marry Eliot.”

“Oh thank gods!” she fell into one of his chairs laughing with satisfaction. “You know that I love him and it took a  _ long _ time to get to where we are. We have an arrangement that works for us. But if you…” Fen’s pause was pregnant. “He’s never really gotten over you, Q.” 

“Fen, you have nothing to worry about. I love Alice. I want to marry Alice. I don’t want to be in whatever,” he flapped his hands in the air for effect, “arrangement you two have.”

“Good. Because I need your help then. I think they are going to do something to Alice.”

“Way to bury the lead there Fen!” Fen contorted her face in a way that said she was sorry but that she thought the first part of the conversation was more important. “What do you mean they are going to do something to her? What are they going to do?”

“I think… I think they are going to out her. Or at least make it look like she has to choose between You and Fillory or going back home. You know how Margo can twist the perception. I think it has to do with this coup that Ess is trying to run.”

“He’s not organizing a coup. If he was, we wouldn’t know until just before it happened. He outright threatened it. What I think he’s doing is riling Margo up to do what he wants without him lifting a finger.”

“Well… she’s playing right into his hand then. Because her and Eliot were talking about making the ball all about her and how they would put her in the spotlight and ‘show the country who she really is’,” Fen quoted with her fingers.

“That could mean anything. It doesn’t mean she’s going to ‘out’ Alice. And if she did? It would backfire so spectacularly. Margo isn’t dumb enough to forget that. We’re a peaceful country but I think that would make them revolt.” Quentin looked at the papers in front of him. Budgets for city planning and expansion and agricultural subsidies. He needed to sign off on them or send back to their committees. Shuffling them into some sort of order he would forget when he looked at them again he said “I’m bringing Alice back.”

Fen’s heart melted a bit. “No, you need to work. I’ll go down after my visit to the orphanage. Besides, how would it look if you came swooping in to take her back? The invitation for the ball are going out today, I’ll use hers as an excuse.” 

Quentin nodded. He watched Fen throw her cloak over her shoulders and swish her way to the door. “Fen!” She turned to look back at him. “Thank you. You really are a good friend to Alice.” Fen beamed.


	16. Chapter 16

Alice woke that day feeling like she had drank an entire bar the night before. Her head swam and her mouth was so dry it took brushing her teeth twice to get rid of it. She was equally famished and repulsed by food. The last time she felt similarly was the last day Quentin made her brunch. Timidly she asked Heinrich for some bacon and maple syrup. He gave her a concerned look but made her up a plate that she easily devoured. 

The rest of the morning found her sitting on a bench overlooking a frozen lake in front of a snow capped mountain eating an assortment of Fillorian pastries. The second day Alice came to visit Oma she purchased a thick wool scarf. The third day, she bought the matching mittens. On the fourth day, Oma gave her a coat. Alice begged and pleaded with her to let her pay but Oma refused and, eventually, won the contest. The wool still smelled like Oma’s kitchen and Alice prayed the heady woody scent would never dissipate. She wanted to go to her friend because she was certain the old woman would have some sort of remedy for this ailment.

A soft and polite grunt broke through Alice’s thoughts. She saw Fen standing behind her in her winter cloak waiting patiently. “Fen? What are you-”

“Doing here? You’ve been gone for some time and I wanted to bring you something.” She motioned to the bench silently questioning access.

“Oh! My manners! Please, sit.” Alice moved the bag out of the way. “Would you like some?” She offered the Consort. “I don’t know what they’re called but they are absolutely wonderful.”

Fen peered into the bag and gasped. “ _ Frittierteigs _ . I haven’t had these in so long. Did they give you jam? They aren’t proper  _ Frittierteigs _ without jam.” Alice handed up a little cup of a berry jam she was not familiar with. Fen happily grabbed a couple and dunked deeply into the fruit jelly.  _ Frittierteigs  _ were long dough pieces shaped like noodles and fried in oil. Similar to what American’s called “Elephant Ears” just not one giant piece. 

“What did you come to bring me?” Alice asked. “Is everything okay? Is Quentin okay?”

“Quentin is fine. He misses you like crazy. But, he is respecting your wishes.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a thick and heavy decorative envelope. “I came to bring you your invitation to the Christmas Ball.”

Alice took the envelope gingerly in her hands. The paper itself was like silk. She was sure that the invitation inside was a work of art. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I know that you will be Quentin’s date, but he wanted to make sure you had your own invitation. He wanted you to know that he doesn’t always expect you to be attached to him. It took a little convincing but Margo had one made up as a ‘gift’.” Fen practically spat out the word. She loved her friend-in-law but the woman could be incorrigible. 

“It’s very nice, thank you. You didn’t have to come all the way down here and bring it to me.”

“Alice, it’s like a fifteen minute drive,  _ if that _ .” Fen looked over the scenery contemplating what to say next. “I did also want to speak with you…” She couldn’t make herself look at Alice she felt so ashamed.

“What about?” Alice asked, nerves dancing in her throat.

“Margo is planning something. I don’t know what and I can’t discuss the details of why. Just… Margo is... like that movie with the blonde and Lindsey Lohan.”

“A mean girl?” Alice supplied helpfully.

“Yes! She’s very mean sometimes.” 

_ Before going to the orphanage Fen took it upon herself to ask for Alice’s invitation. She had hoped Margo had one made up for her. The High Queen was reluctant to hand it over suspicious of Fen’s intent. _

_ “How would it look if some stranger delivered it to her? It would look like no one cared. And she might think she was relegated to the status of ‘guest’.” Fen explained.  _

_ “That sounds like a perfect idea. It lets her know where she should belong,” Margo smirked. _

**_Fuck!_ ** _ Fen had to think fast. She was talented with metal and knives, but quick thinking had never been a strong talent. Her naivete getting the best of her.  _ **_Come on old gal…_ ** _ “But if you want her to know that, wouldn’t it defeat your purpose? For your plan to work... you have to... humiliate her, don’t you? Yeah! Make the people see who you _ **_want_ ** _ them to see. ...Even if she knows she’s  _ **_just_ ** _ a guest no one else will. She’ll still play the dutiful girlfriend. And! if it makes her leave, then she’s leaves quietly and it can easily be explained away by her needing to go home to her family.” _

_ Margo tapped her chin thinking. “You’re right. We need to lead her into a false sense of security. She thinks you’re her friend and ‘Et tu, Brute’? _

“She doesn’t want me to be with Quentin…” Alice confessed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Never! She just has this idealized picture of what her life is supposed to be and she won’t let it go. When someone messes with the picture she’s created she goes a little crazy. And the problem is, that whatever she’s planning is going to backfire so spectacularly and she’s smart enough to know that! She really is a tactical mastermind. You know she has a degree in psychology.” Fen gave a pointed look, “She is an expert at tactical strategy. Her focus was on the psychology of conflict. If she would just put aside her pettiness you two could bond on a level no one has seen.”

Alice fingered the filigree on the envelope. “Then maybe I should go home…” she thought about Oma’s words. Maybe the path she needed to take was that of leaving. Rapunzel could have saved herself by cutting off her hair and making a rope. But the authors thought women were too vain to think of that ending. 

“Alice, for someone so perceptive, I don’t know how you can be so blind!” Fen barreled on ignoring Alice’s look of incredulity. “That would be giving in to Margo. You  _ have _ to go. You don’t have to argue but your presence there will be protest enough.” 

“Okay… but it’s in less than a week. I don’t have anything to wear and I don’t know the etiquette of your court!” Alice exclaimed. She covered her mouth with her mitten wanting to simply smell Oma hoping it would calm her down.

“Do you know it’s the middle of the night in Chicago?” Fen asked seemingly changing the question.

Alice looked at her phone it would be about three in the morning for them. “Yes,” she drawled. “...Why?”

“Ohh no reason…” Fen swung her long legs under the bench. “Just that maybe I found your friend Kady’s information, called her, and she’s flying out here and will be in tomorrow morning.”

“What?!” Alice shouted. “Why? Why would you do that?” So, sure, Fen overstepped by going behind her back and getting a hold of her best friend. But it was Alice’s  _ best friend _ . Why wasn’t she overjoyed at the news? Fen asked her as much while she watched the sense roll over the blonde. Sometimes Alice succumbed to the stereotype. 

“Kady told me that she didn’t send you with a ball gown. She was planning on shipping it over but realized her mistake too late. The shipping costs and the time needed to pass customs wouldn’t have worked. So, she’s bringing the raw materials over and going to make it here!”

“But Fen… I don’t know your customs. How do you know that I need a ballgown?” Alice understood how obvious the answer was as soon as the words were past her lips.

“Don’t you have, like, a  _ masters degree _ in this?” Fen pressed.

“I have a degree in medieval religious practices. And yes,” Alice began dramatically blase “I’m part of the SCA. But, up until a month ago, I didn’t even know your country existed!”

“Well, we have a week. That means, there is time for me to help you. I’ll even get Josh to help. He really doesn’t like the person this is turning his girlfriend into.” 

Alice sighed. “I don’t know Fen… I don’t think I want to come back to the castle. It seems a bit premature…” 

“So don’t,” the Consort shrugged. 

Alice raised her eyebrows in confusion. “We can’t very well do anything outside or at the B&B, there wouldn’t be any room.” 

“I know. We can go to Burg Zaubrin,” Fen said it like it was the most obvious answer.

Alice’s ungloved her hand and rubbed at her eyes, her glasses pushing themselves up to her forehead. Smudged winged liner be damned. “We can’t do it at the museum, Fen.”

“Sure we can! It’s property of the Royal family and you have some pull with the curator,” Fen waggled her eyebrows.

“Who? Vance? No, I most certainly do  _ not _ .” 

“Not according to Instagram.” Alice groaned. “You were pretty cozy at lunch  _ and _ you’ve been seen going back every day.” Fen scrolled through her feed, “and some yarn shop?”

_ Fucking Instagram…  _ “He gave me access to the private library and there are religious texts in there that I wanted to study. That’s  _ it _ .” Alice chose to not tell Fen about Oma. She didn’t know why, it just seemed too personal. 

“Well, I bet, if you walk in and asked him if we could use the space, he not only would say yes, but close it down to outsiders,  _ and _ help out.” Fen looked at the picture of Alice and Vance together. “I wonder if he would like to meet Eliot…” she mused softly.

Alice exhaled. “Fine… I’ll ask him.” 

Fen screeched with joy and squeezed Alice tightly in a hug. It took a moment of Alice to get past the revulsion of someone touching her because it was Fen and Fen was nice and her hugs were great and her enthusiasm could melt an iceberg. 

\---

Margo’s chief of staff walked into her office. The modern style setup was the epitome of minimalistic. The stone walls had been whitewashed letting the hidden colors come through. Her desk was glass and steel and absolutely no drawers. There was a beautiful white dresser that she used as her filing cabinet. The rest of the room was decorated with fine art and sculptures and a living room set for guests. The aesthetic made every interior design publication cream with jealousy. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Yes, what is it?” She had been reading a particularly pucker inducing piece of legislation the north was trying to put through. 

“You have a message.” Margo ignored the statement. She didn’t have time to answer each and every message. Her chief knew this. Maybe because it was close to the holidays her brain had gone somewhere else. “...From Representative Ess.” She held out the pink slip of paper. 

Margo snatched it out of his hand like a viper and its prey. “Why didn’t you say so?!” Her chief of staff rolled her eyes. She’d been with Margo too long to care. “Get my car,” Margo barked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he bowed and made his way out to make the arrangements.

Usually Margo had tact. Usually. She usually commanded a room by a simple look. Usually. She usually sauntered into a room, made a lap, and had a line trailing her out of the room yearning for her attention.  _ Usually _ . Today was not a usual day. Instead, she barged into the government offices of West Loria forcing everyone who was doing anything to get up, make their motions of greetings, and then wait for her to pass. The only person who didn’t do this was, Ess himself.

She had barged right into his office where he was conversing with two military offers. They dropped a bow and a salute which she returned, before leaving promptly. “My dear High Queen, what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the shit, Ess. What the fuck is this?!” She waved the message in front of him. “Do you think I’m some fucking lackey where I come when you snap your fingers?”

“You’re here aren’t you?” His smug grin never leaving his face. He even propped his feet on his desk. 

“I’m here because your stupidity is overtaking your mouth. Do you think I wouldn’t know what you and your little cronies were planning? You know monarchs are supposed to find out that a coup is happening minutes before it actually does, right? How do you think you’re good at this?”

Ess laughed freely. “You think I’m going to usurp the throne? Look in your own backyard. You have an outsider in your midst. ” So Ess wanted to play games. Fine, Margo would play along. “Did you know that the current Queen of England isn’t supposed to be Queen?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she said exasperatedly disinterested.

“No really. It’s this guy in Australia. There was some fuck up regarding someone’s birth or death. I really don’t care.” Margo looked at him annoyed. Why was she wasting time on this again? Ess straightened himself up off the table and stood, buttoning his blazer. “Would you say you know everyone that was born in Fillory the five years before and five years after you were born?”

“Yes,” she inspected her immaculate manicure. “I vaguely remember giving you, what is still considered to be, the best night of your life. Why?”

“You remember that my father is a doctor.” He leaned over his desk dropping his voice to a comical faux confidential whisper, “I mean he did help you with that… issue.” He saw Margo’s fist clench. She was small but she lived up to her moniker. “As you know, we don’t let people have babies here unless they are approved. No dual citizenship,” he ticked off on his finger. “And any emergency babies we send over to Switzerland.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” She half whined. “Get on with it!”

“What if I were to tell you that there was an… ‘unauthorized birth’, here in Fillory? That would be of some worth to you, wouldn’t you agree?”

Margo took a moment to ponder. This was a game after all. “Are you sure you’re not talking about some hippy kiddie pool home birth?”

“Yes,” his smile started to return. “Right here, in our hospital. South Quadrant to be exact.”

That caught Margo’s attention. “Spill.”

It was Ess’s turn to act bored. “It’s quite a simple story. A mother and father came in, stayed for three days, and then,” he waved his hands in a flourish, “disappeared.”

“Now you’re lying.”

“Can’t say that I am. I confirmed it with my father. He delivered the baby himself.  _ And _ they even used their real names.”

“You better have fucking proof.”

Ess pulled out a piece of paper from a folder on his desk. He started to hand it to her but brought it back quickly. “if I give this to you, then you have to do something for me. I don’t just give intel like this away.”

“I’ll think about it. I’ll have to authenticate this for myself. And if I find out this is some sort of ploy...” She stuck a finger his face trying to drive home her point. 

“Trust me, your majesty,” he bowed deeply, “we are on the same side this time. I want Fen as the Sovereign Queen. Word is that you’ve already started trying to create a rift between King Quentin and his girlfriend Alice. There was quite a private show to be seen at the Cottage Party. Too bad I missed it. Priorities,” he haughtily chuckled. 

Margo shrugged a shoulder, noncommittally. She wasn’t about to outright promise something she couldn’t protect herself against. Unfurling her hand she waited for him to place the document in it. She never made a promise and he just handed over his smoking gun.  _ Amateur.  _ Margo took a quick glance and all of the color drained from her face. If this was true… She had to go. She had to go  _ now _ !

“Thank you for bringing this to me. You have done yourself and your country and great service.” He bowed to her and she pivoted on her stiletto trying not to break the sound barrier to get out of that office.


	17. Chapter 17

Fen had made sure to give Kady the royal treatment. She had a first class ticket on Swiss Air giving her a direct flight. It wasn’t in Fen’s nature to try and pull rank but she needed to get Kady on that flight and she may have convinced them to overbook the flight to get Kady on. And by “may” she meant she did and that she paid for the possible upgrade and flight change for those she kicked off. 

Kady’s flight was exquisite. From the pre-flight dinner at the airport, to the food actually served on the plane, how she got an amazing night’s sleep and the pajamas they gave her for it. It would be something she gushed over for years to come. 

When Kady arrived, Fen had a car waiting at the airport with her name and everything. Unlike Alice, who slept on the ride, to the small principality, Kady took as many pictures as she could. The mountainous landscape looked like a snow-covered wonderland compared to the Chicago native. 

She arrived to Alice’s lodging with suitcases in tow, one being filled with the raw materials needed for Alice’s dress and her sewing machine being her carry-on. Kady wrapped her best friend in a warm embrace and didn’t let go, even when Alice struggled to be free. “Shh… just let it happen…” Kady whispered.

And Alice did. She found herself breaking down and letting the wash of emotions she had refused herself to feel in the past few weeks come out as a bundle of craziness. She talked about Margo being openly hostile, Eliot being duplicitous, feeling disconnected to Quentin, and that the scenery itself was overwhelming.  _ Everything _ was overwhelming. She had no time to actually process it all. Alice found herself clinging to her best friend like an anchor. She had forgotten how much Kady helped her in her daily life and how much she relied on the Latina for support. 

Heinrich and Olga made an exception to their “no lunch” policy bringing up a spread for Kady along with coffee and tea to Alice’s room. Where the two pigged out on Fillorian delicacies and watched Fillorian TV with the subtitles turned on. It was one of the ways Alice was learning the language.

Kady updated Alice on her work and how her bitch of a boss actually wanted her to contribute to the summer line. Kady had broken up with the girl she had been dating. It was coming up to the holidays and she just wasn’t feeling enough of a connection to commit to presents and family. Alice rolled her eyes at that. Kady always had a shelf life of relationships. Men or women. She had an unspoken rule where she didn’t date anyone between Christmas and Valentine’s Day. 

Alice kept Kady talking about herself and her plans for the gowns they were going to make. Seeing as Alice had an official invitation that included a plus one Kady was going to officially be her date. Alice knew it was better to get Kady talking so she didn’t have to. Kady worked off some of the jet lag by working and tweaking the designs. She wouldn’t let Alice say ‘whatever you think is best’. Kady knew Alice had a style and had an opinion and it looked to the designer like that was being stifled. She remarked how beautiful Alice looked during the opening night and that even if Kady dressed her most of the time she really shined that night. 

Kady had been following Alice over social media and European news outlets. Apparently, Alice was all the buzz, especially after her debut at the opening festival. Her father’s store was being inundated with calls from European news sources. He had to hire an answering service to take the calls to discern between journalists and customers. People were flocking to the store in interest and Kady was stepping in in the evenings to handle the influx of people. The American media had picked it up but it was labeled as a special interest story and had bothered her father alone. Alice sent a prayer of gratitude to whomever was watching over him for that.

The two fell asleep in Alice’s bed, finding comfort in each other like they had when they were kids. Alice deep sleep was filled with dreams of times long ago. Time periods she could only guess at. However, each one centered around a particular woman and her family. They looked familiar but Alice had never met them nor could she put her finger on where she might have seen them. She was woken by a kiss on her forehead and someone smoothing her hair back. 

“Mom?” Alice couldn’t keep the word from tumbling from her lips. 

“No, it’s just me. Sorry.” Kady apologized. “You haven’t dreamt about your mom since freshman year. Everything okay?”

The blonde sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Oh yeah, totally. I think it was just the rush of emotions yesterday.” 

“Good! Olga brought up breakfast and I met Fen. She’s very… excitable.” Kady handed Alice her tea the way she liked it and went back to perfecting her makeup look. She had decided on her chola style that day with low slung jeans and a flannel shirt buttoned at the neck. 

“Where did you meet Fen?” Alice sipped the hot drink thankful her friend could read her mind.

“She’s downstairs. She said something about needing to know if you were going to ‘make an appearance’ tonight?”

Alice groaned, sliding her face into hands. “Tonight is the town’s night for the Christmas celebration.”

“Why is that so anxiety inducing? You like hiding in a crowd of people,” Kady pointed out.

“Because I wouldn’t be. They would want me to be with the royal party. And I’m not so sure about doing that. I did it for the first few nights and it just takes a lot out. And I haven’t talked to Quentin, and I’m certain Margo is going to try and pull  _ something _ .” Alice rambled with anxiety.

“Woah…” Kady softly called. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Tell them no. What are they going to do? Arrest you? You don’t owe them anything!” Kady slid onto the bed, taking Alice’s hands in hers. “You know I’ll be by your side, babe.”

Alice couldn’t stop the smirk that appeared at the word ‘babe’. As rebellious teens they would gag every time they heard someone say it. Then, Kady found herself saying it to a boyfriend and Alice remarked  _ Oh, we’re ‘babe’ people now? _ “But that’s just it… I kind of want to be a part of it…” Her nose scrunched in apprehension of Kady’s reaction. “Is that bad?”

Kady took a moment to ponder. “No, it’s not bad. It’s unorthodox to willingly subject you to all of that. Borderline masochistic. But not ‘bad’.”

Alice took a pregnant pause weighing her options. “Go downstairs and ask Fen for the itinerary and then I’ll decide.”

Kady clapped her hands together. “The fact that you not only know there is an itinerary but that you want to  _ review it _ before making a decision? You’re more invested in this world than I realized.”

“Please,” Alice whined and begged. 

Kady put her hands up in defeat. “I’m going. I’m going.”

The itinerary was simple, there would be a little ceremony at the fountain in the town square, and then throughout the night there would be little one act productions of different Christmas celebrations. Alice could handle that. She could stand behind the royals, next to Fen, and maybe Josh would be there, then walk around and show Kady the amazing countryside. 

The town was buzzing with activity to finish up the final preparations for the night. People from all over had begun to filter in and food stands were set up along the main drag. Alice had tried to sneak into the Berg but it was overflowing with tourists and residents and she realized that there were people already snapping pictures of her and Kady. Now was not the time to kick up a fuss. 

Kady proved to be a great silent bodyguard. Her default ‘don’t fuck with me’ demeanor kept the majority of onlookers away. But, for those brave, Alice was kind and patient and took the time to converse with them. She remembered how people were with Fen and tried to emulate her as much as possible. 

Wow. The day she went to visit Fen’s home felt like months ago instead of days. 

She accepted flowers and gifts from those who offered. Thank god for Kady’s massive purse. The hoard that they would go through that night was akin to a haul from trick or treating. Officially, Alice would say that she didn’t care about any of it. That the thoughts were lovely but she didn’t need the trinkets. In reality, she was loving all of it. Receiving gifts solidified a person’s feelings to her. Whenever Quentin bought her doughnuts or a new pen it just made everything real to her. Each little chocolate and stuffed animal and picture someone wanted to take kept Alice’s feet on the ground and her anxiety from floating her away. 

Tonight would be the first night that she would see her boyfriend. How would they act? Would they hug? Of course they would! Would she want him to? Yes. That was undeniable. But would it cause her to go into the habits she was trying to break away from? 

They knew the moment Margo, Eliot, Quentin, and Fen arrived. The festival goers made way for them to walk through and directed Q’s attention to his American girlfriend. He had a sweet smile on his face when he saw her and made it a point to come to her. She wanted to run. Oh how she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Instead she smiled back and accepted the hug and kiss on the cheek. He never kissed her on the cheek. It was always on the forehead or temple. Was he just as unnerved by this as she was? 

“How are you?” he asked. “Is my Sister Quadrant treating you well?” He looked over the attentive crowd.

“Oh yes. I can see why this is the gem of your country.” Those who could hear her clapped and she realized that this was an act. It was easier when she was on stage. She could pretend to play a part. But this was ground level, eye level with everyone, and she feared they would see right through her. 

He offered her his arm and she took it dutifully and he walked them away from everyone where they could have some semblance of privacy. “Sorry about all of that. I should have warned you.”

“How? Telepathy?” She barbed lightly.

“How, um, how are you? How are things? How is the Berg? How is, um…” 

“Vance?” She supplied helpfully. “He gave me access to the Zaubrin Bible. I’ve been stuck in this tiny room surrounded by books almost too old to handle.”

He nodded. She could do what she wanted, he knew that, he didn’t want to seem jealous but he couldn’t stop the pain when he saw the picture. “I figured as much. He’s… too… tall and, um, broad for your tastes…”

“Quen Coldwater, are you jealous?” His silence gave her the confirmation she needed. “Everything has been good here. I’ve been just researching and eating everything in site and are you aware of this one reality show where they all live in one house but they all work each other’s jobs? I’m kind of addicted. I think it’s improving my Fillorian.”

“Yes, I’m aware of ‘The Green Side’. They asked us to be on it and I’m sure you can understand why we said no.” Alice could figure it out. Quentin hated the limelight, Margo was overprotective of her position, and Eliot probably was told he wasn’t allowed. Alice felt him sigh. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’ll tell you that every day if you need to.”

“Quentin,” she stopped him. “I know. But you have to see this from my perspective. I find out my boyfriend is a king then when I go to visit his family the High King and Queen are cockblocking me for no apparent reason! They need to know that I won’t be walked all over. So, while I know you didn’t mean anything, until you do something about them and how they are treating me then I need to stay away from the palace.” She disengaged from him and kissed his cheek. She hoped that felt as much like an insult as it did to her. “I still love you. But I need to know that I will take precedent.” Some may call her selfish for that but if there was ever to be a future between the two of them then she couldn’t be a second tier character in their play.

When Alice was in the shower, Quentin came by the room in hopes of maybe working something out. He did not expect to get a face full of bulldog. Kady was completely statue-esq as he plead her case to her. Kady on the other hand told him what a shithead he had been and he was even lucky they were still in the country. 

“If it was me, I would have left long ago but my best friend is a better person when it comes to conflict. But I’ll give her the message.”

His hands went up when she moved to shut the door, “please don’t slam the door!” It was the optics. The fucking optics. 

Kady gave him a disgusted look, “only because Alice is still in love with you.” She still shut the door in his face, but not as hard as she wanted. Quentin sighed. He was a shithead. 

The evening went according to the itinerary. There was a puppet show, and a nativity scene, a one woman show with excerpts from Engela’s diaries to name a few. Vance had been elected to welcome the royal “family” and wish them a wonderful holiday season from their territory. Alice stood dutifully behind Quentin, like she had promised, with Fen and Josh next to her. 

Where Margo and Eliot would usually speak, it was Quentin who thrust himself in front of everyone. Public speaking was never his strong suit and Alice felt Fen slip a hand into hers. “Hi… Merry Christmas!” The crowd called the wishes back to him. “So, I want… I want to thank all so much for your absolute wonderful display of holiday spirit. It’s… amazing. Like every year.” He took a breath and smiled nervously. “You all... encompass the best about Fillory. I know that myself, and Margo and Eliot always love to come down here for a bit of respite from our day to day lives. You, um, never brag or boast or exclude… I mean... Next to my own home this Quadrant has always been where I have felt the most comfortable. But this year, I have to give you a personal thank you.

“Alice?” He reached his hand out to her. This wasn’t planned. She wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to speak. He said he  _ never _ speaks! Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear she tentatively walked up to him, accepting his hand. At her first step the crowd began to cheer and when she slipped her hand into his they went nuts. Alice wished it was because of her; but, really, she didn’t know most of them. They were cheering for their Sovereign King. “You may have met my girlfriend recently. She’s been in your shops, she’s been to the Berg, and you have all treated her with the utmost kindness and normalcy than I think she’s had since she first came here.

“You’ve welcomed her into your lives as if she has always been here. You treat her like one of your own,  _ our own _ , and I cannot thank you enough for that.” He looked at her, and only her, and his warm brown eyes could melt the ice around them. “I need her to know that I would fall on my sword for her. That I hope I can show her every day the same amount of affection you’ve shown to her without any pretense. She is the light in my life and she makes me happy. So while she’s here,” he turned back to them, “Could you love her for me?” The crowd applauded their affirmative.

“Que…” Alice moaned before pressing him up against a wall in a little alleyway. How was it that their alleys were even pretty? 

“A-A-Alice…” Her lips crushed against his, swallowing whatever he was about to say in a deep kiss. “wooo okay…” when they finally got a moment to breathe. “A-are you sure?” He asked again. She gave him a look of angry annoyance. “I mean, you’ve had a couple of cocktails… and you remember what happened the last time you had Bollenbacher’s…”

“Quentin,” she said pointedly. “Just because they came out with a cranberry schnapps for the holidays does not mean that I am instantly unable to make decisions for myself.” He nodded furiously. “So, you have two options, you can either shut up or you can talk yourself out of this…” she ran a hand tipsily down her neck and the front of her sweater.

“Yeah, okay, right..” he agreed before wrapping her back up in his arms.


	18. Chapter 18

“Hey! Blonde Bitch!” Kady threw a pillow at Alice’s head making her moan in pain. “Wake up!” 

“Wha…? What time is it?” 

“After breakfast,” Kady deadpanned. “Your snoring kept me up all night.” 

“Swrrmm” Alice spoke through her pillow.

“I’m going to take that as an apology.” Alice raised a thumbs up to her. “And so we’re just not going to talk about how I found you and Que pretty much going at it in an alley?” Alice whined wordlessly about it. “That’s what I thought. Fen’s downstairs. And she’s with that Josh guy who is with the High Queen but no one seems to know about it? Oh! And a woman who could be you twenty years in the future if I hadn’t have intervened.” She paid particular attention to the mascara she was putting on.

“Zelda? Why is Zelda here?” Alice’s head popped up behind Kady in the mirror and the bird’s nest of her hair made her best friend snicker. 

“That’s a… look. But, no clue. They’ve been here for almost an hour. They tried to barge in but I had help with Olga in keeping them out.” Kady laughed, “Fen tried to pull some ‘do you know who I am’ bullshit and Olga was not giving any fucks. I don’t know what she said, because they were speaking Fillorese-”

“Fillorian,” Alice supplied.

“Fillorian. It did not sound good.”

“Shit… I need to get dressed.” Alice started climbing out of bed dressed in panties and a tank. 

“No, you can stay in bed for as long as you want. You don’t have to conform to these people’s schedule. Though I have half a mind to make you for making me clean up after you last night.” Kady put her hands on her hips looking at Alice through the mirror.

“Please, ‘Dee, I’m too tired to argue. I have to basically download all of Fillory’s high court customs into my head in the next four days and execute them perfectly.”

The tall brunette took Alice by the shoulders, “you can walk away from this. We’ll make them ship everything back to us at their cost. Just say the word and we’re gone.” Alice waited for Oma’s voice to ring through hear ears that leaving was the path to take but no sign came. 

“No. This is what I’m supposed to be doing,” her hangover may have clouded the words but conviction filled Alice’s eyes.

“At least eat your breakfast first.” Kady conceded. “If this is going to be your possible life, then you need to learn how to make people put you first.”

\---

A half hour later Alice was leading Kady down to the front room where they were greeted by Fen, Josh, and Zelda carrying a suitcase. Predicting Alice’s question, Zelda answered “Books from the library. Practical applications of courtly etiquette for you to read and understand better.” 

“You brought the books outside of the library?!” Alice’s eyebrows met her hairline.

“Copies.” The young blonde nodded in understanding. She wasn’t going to comment that there were so many it took a suitcase. Probably because there was only one line or a paragraph in a book and Zelda felt it best to just bring the entire tome instead of copying the passage.

Fen clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Vance is waiting for us. He’s closed the Burg for us to use for the next few days. He said that we can use the ballroom and dining rooms.” When Alice had come to the curator for permission her heart had lodged itself in her throat afraid that he thought that he might take things the wrong way. Vance was certainly attractive with his  _ blue _ eyes (he argued they were green) and broad shoulders. He was polite that was often reserved for Midwesterners outside of Chicago. He readily gave his permission. He wanted Alice to fully integrate herself into Fillorian society and would do all that he could to help. Alice didn’t even have to promise an endowment from Fen. 

Each day was filled with etiquette lessons regarding dinner and consumption on the dance floor; dancing lessons; and how to address particular people and who she would need to know in attendance. 

Alice already had a crash course the first week with the diplomat dinner Margo held. That part came easy to her. She knew how to work her way in and which fork to use. Making sure she had a stomach for all of the food was difficult. Josh brought delicacies that Alice was not familiar with, dishes that would be served at the ball, and were regarded as “acquired tastes” by American palettes. Fillory was considered a landlocked country but there was a river that ran along the length of the western border and there was a massive lake in the eastern quadrant that provided seafood such as eel and muscles. The way dishes were prepared was different than she was used to. 

Josh explained that if someone offered her something she had to take it. Excuses like allergies were not allowed. She didn’t have to eat it but she had to accept it. It was the same with alcohol. Alice always had to have a full or somewhat full glass of wine or champagne in her hands. She didn’t have to drink it but if it was gone then it would be quickly replaced. Josh made it known how much he hated these rules. It was wasteful and it was abundance for the sake of opulence. For the most part Alice could choke most of it down but he was correct the pickling and stewing was not something she was prepared for. It was good she was trying them now so she wouldn’t have to find a napkin at the ball.

Zelda took the next part of the lessons. Vance set them up in a side room as she took a more teacher-like approach. There were many dignitaries from parliament and ancient dynasties that would be in attendance. Zelda spoke on the imperativeness that Alice be able to recognize them by face and some tidbits about each one. Such as how many kids and their age ranges and hobbies they were known for. What Alice was  _ never _ to discuss was politics. It was likely she was going to be asked about the current American political climate and she could keep her answers general or concentrated on local politics that the attendees would not know about. But she could not voice her favor or displeasure on the current leadership. She was seen as a dignitary for the United States whether she wanted it or not and what she said  _ mattered _ . She had three tests each day. Alice cheered inwardly for Zelda’s forethought.

For the first day Kady stayed with Alice learning about cuisine and etiquette and politics. But for the rest of the time she worked on their gowns. The second day had Kady running back and forth to stand Alice on a box and get measurements and alterations. Zelda, in her frustration, made Vance set up a station in a room off of the one they were working in to minimize damage to the fabric and allow for them to take fewer breaks for longer periods of time. Kady’s work room was becoming filled with taffeta, tulle, velvet and silk. Alice had asked Fen to bring the beads she had bought from her room in the Palace to Kady. It was an early Christmas present that she thought her designer friend would want to incorporate into her creations.

The last thing Alice needed to master were the dances. She took cotillion in the sixth grade and then a ballroom dancing class in college but she was nothing compared to Kady’s talent. Her leggy friend could bend and contort in ways that would make any expert jealous. She would work in the morning and early afternoon then when it came time to dance she was one hundred percent involved. She said it was to combat a “bent back” from her work. Fen taught the Americans the woman’s part and used Josh and Vance for the men’s part. “What if we want to lead?” Kady asked apprehensively. 

“If you can find someone willing to let you, then go for it,” Fen shrugged. “But, this isn’t a very progressive event so you’ll be hard pressed.” Fen said with a twinge of sorrow. “For now, learn the traditional part and then you can move to lead.”

As Alice was stepping on her and Josh’s toes she missed all of the knowing glances and misinterpreted the giggles between Vance and Kady. After a particularly confusing quartet dance she let out her frustration onto her best friend. “We get it, ‘Dee! You’re a great dancer! Do you have to make everyone else feel inadequate?!” Kady, gobsmacked, tried to protest but Alice waved her away and announced they were done for the evening. Grabbing her outerwear from Oma she headed straight for the yarn shop. 

Alice burst into the yarn shop hoping to find the wood stove burning and hearing Oma banging her pots around. Instead she walked into an immaculate showroom. It was still made of wood but walls and floors had been sealed. Along two walls were shelves with one holding stacks of gloves and scarves and the other skeins of yarn in all sorts of colors. Immediately her first thought was that she was in the wrong store. She backed out slowly to check the front of the store and the sign over the awning. It was exactly as she had left it but there was no way in a few days it would have been renovated in such a manner. 

Cautiously she walked inside hoping the previous site was a vision or a trick her eyes were playing. It was the same beautifully modern showroom. Maybe it had been renovated. How long did it take to set something like this up; especially with a full crew? She wanted to cry out for Oma. Before she could make a sound a middle aged man with graying hair dressed in a beautiful cardigan asked her if she needed any help.

“Is this store owned by a woman named Oma?” Alice asked him.

“Oma? I am sorry, no. My family has owned this shop for generations,” he explained patiently. 

“Are there any other yarn stores in town?”

“Not in the SQ. And for very good reason,” his voice filled with pride. “We own the sheep the wool comes from, dye it, and spin it ourselves.”

“That’s… wonderful. Does this shop have a residence?”

“ _ Ja _ ... In the rear... Why?” Trepidation covered his words. 

“Oh! Oh… The architecture is fascinating. We don’t have things like this back in America. I learned that many merchants lived in their shops.”

“Well, yes, but it is used for storage now. Or if my wife is mad at me.” He winked at her like she understood some archaic ritual of sending a spouse to the proverbial couch.

Alice started to look at the merchandise. She hadn’t looked too closely the other times she had visited. Her clothes were surely proof of her visit. Did he recognize them? Would he think she stole them?! “Do you know a woman by the name of Oma? I’m a huge knitter and I was told she sells the best yarn.” Alice tittered nervously.

“I think there might be a miscommunication,” the man said as gently as possible. “Oma isn’t a person’s name. It means ‘grandmother’. I am sorry but mine passed away quite some time ago.”

Alice couldn’t have imagined all the time she spent with Oma. She wasn’t that stressed that she was creating alternate realities… was she? “I am sorry to hear that,” that is what normal people said, wasn’t it? Alice was normal. She wasn’t crazy. “I think you are right, I think there was a miscommunication. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Alice smiled and slowly backed her way to the door.

“If you are such a prolific knitter, we do have a special buy two skeins get the third free. It is perfect for those last minute scarves!”

“Thank you, but my friends and family are all scarf’d out.” As she turned to leave a pedestal with an illuminated glass case caught her eye. Inside was the wooden box with the symbol of Engela. Drawn to it like a moth to a flame Alice felt herself moving closer to it. This was real. That meant her memories were real and Oma was real!

“ _ Schön, ja _ ? It belonged to the Magician Queen herself. Given to her by Lothair III,” the shopkeeper explained. “It is empty now but it was said to contain the queen’s last manuscript. No one knows what was written. Recipes, diary entries, a running list of her descendants are the most popular theories.”

“How much?” Alice asked without looking at him, her eyes transfixed.

“I am sorry but it is a family heirloom. It is not for sale.”

“You just said this once belonged to the Magician Queen.” Alice pivoted to face him. “If that is the case then there are three possible outcomes. One, this is a fake and you are using it for notoriety; two, it is real and that means you are a descendant of the lost fourth line and are holding the country hostage; or three, it is real but you came upon it by some nefarious means.”

The man held his hands up in surrender. “I promise that it is real and we did not come into possession of it by nefarious means.”

“So you are saying that you are holding the country hostage as they wait for their ruler to come back when they have been here all along.” Alice took a step towards him. She was almost a foot shorter than he but that did not dampen his fear of her.

“Then how did you get the box?!”

“My great grandmother was a friend of the last queen to sit on the throne before they left! It was given to her as a gift. She made many of the last queen’s garments!” Alice had him pressed against the checkout counter, his hands still up in surrender.

Alice took a step back realizing exactly the situation she was putting herself in. Sticking her nose in the air, “by now you must have realized who I am.”

“ _ J-ja _ my lady. You are the partner of King Quentin.”

“Yes. And I wish to purchase this box. Whatever the price we will pay. It should be back at the palace waiting for the descendants return.” She really did hate to pull rank but it really did help with getting what she wanted.

Slipping by her he went behind the cash register and pulled out a box and some tissue paper. Carrying the items over to the case he arranged them in a very particular order before opening the case and placing it inside the box, making sure it was wrapped neatly. Timidly he handed it over to Alice, bowing to her, “payment is not necessary. You are correct, it should be waiting for the lost line and not sitting like some trophy.” 

Alice took the proffered box gingerly. She really hated how this transaction was going. “Thank you. I will ask that you not say a word about this to anyone. If people ask, simply tell them you have sent it back to the palace. No one here is in the wrong.” The man nodded silently before standing to his full height. “Truly, thank you. I will make sure that Quentin sees to it that whenever the lost line returns they will know of your selflessness.”

Alice had left him in his shop still speechless. She ran back to her hotel and into her room. Kady hadn’t returned by a small grace of God. Alice opened the package and unwrapped the paper as neatly as she could. She did not have any restoration materials on her and so she feared what the oil from her fingertips might do. She hypothesized what the box once looked like. She hypothesized it was rich and deep easily showing the details of the fresco. The sun and fluorescent lighting only did more harm. She couldn’t remember the state Oma had shown it to her. Alice pulled the leather bound book from her suitcase. It was proof that she wasn’t crazy. That this ride she was going on was real. Oma said not to open the book until the spirits told her to. But what could be a more perfect moment than reuniting the two back together? Alice opened the cover to the front page. On it sat a recipe for spiced milk. When Oma had run out of cocoa powder she had made this for her young visitor. The recipe was written in Fillorian but Alice knew the recipe from memory. It was milk infused with honey, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and vanilla. It was delicious and she wished she had the comforting drink now. But Oma’s reasoning for having Alice wait when this was inside didn’t make any sense. Closing the binding Alice carefully laid it into the wooden box, effectively bringing the manuscript home. Re-wrapping it and boxing it up again, Alice put it in her suitcase for safe keeping.

Kady came in that evening as Alice was watching a Swiss reality show held in French without subtitles. “You want to tell me what that was about?” she demanded. Alice shifted her eyes over to her but stayed silent. “What about the shop owner you scared shitless with royal authority you don’t have?” Kady’s hip jutted out as she crossed her arms over her chest. It was her power stance. Alice’s face softened but still she didn’t answer. “You are  _ really _ lucky that Fen is your friend. She covered your ass to make sure that that guy wouldn’t take action. He was using words like ‘stolen’ and ‘blasphemous’. You should be on your knees thanking her and begging her forgiveness.” 

Alice turned off the TV and looked at her friend. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

“And why are you apologizing for me?” Alice had a bad habit of not actually owning up to her actions just giving blanket statements.

“I shouldn’t have blown up at you. You can’t help that you’re talented. I should be celebrating your ability instead of being jealous of it. I let my emotions get the better of me.” She bit her lip feeling like a child being chastised. “You can punch me if you want…”

“That was one time!” She laughed incredulously. Kady slid onto the bed and pulled her friend into a hug. Alice’s emotional outbursts were akin to earthquakes. There were always aftershocks. Kady was happy to help her with this but from what she had seen between Alice and Quentin, Quentin had a way of keeping her emotions flowing so these outbursts didn’t happen. Instead of being angry that Quentin wasn’t available she was praying that the upcoming Christmas Ball would bring a resolution to their relationship.


	19. Chapter 19

The evening of the ball came quicker than realized. Kady had spent the day before finishing up both gowns and continued working almost up until Alice put it on. Fen, Josh, and Zelda had gone back to the Palace to play their own parts. Vance, in a move of marketing genius invited Alice to get ready at the Burg. He wanted to invite them to spend the night but it was not zoned for residential use and both he and Alice were incredibly fearful of the integrity of the artifacts. 

Fen had sent two of her ladies in waiting to do help Alice and Kady get ready. A bath had been prepared for her scented with Fillorian yellow lilies. The water was so fragrant that it filled the whole room. After all of the stress and fatigue the bath did its job in melting all of that away. She looked at the candle lit room and for a moment allowed herself to feel like she was living five hundred years prior. It was unfortunate that when it was time to have her hair and face done the spell was broken. Unlike the opening ceremony, Alice’s hair was put up in a chignon where she asked for yellow lilies to decorate the style. The kept the makeup light and focused on bringing out the points of her face with contour and highlights. 

Alice’s dress was hanging on a wardrobe and it gleamed in the light. Kady had to have worked on this dress either prior to Alice leaving or the moment she did. She could tell it was heavily inspired by a Worth gown with its scoop neckline and long torso. The skirt’s crinoline brought a fullness that was deserving of a Disney princess. The beading was exquisite with its pink to blue shift. It’s flower patterns began at the waist and moved their way up to the bodice and down the skirt leaving trails above and below which is a direct influence of Kady’s Mexican heritage.

Kady’s dress was a black vintage inspired gown. It was off the shoulder with long sleeves that gathered at the wrists. It formed to her curves but the soft tulle flowed in a bell shape giving juxtaposition to the overall aesthetic. Kady had brought her embroidery machine, a gift from Daniel, Alice’s father, so that she could utilize the patterns and influence from her heritage to the best of her ability. Silk threaded flowers in colors of Chili Pepper red, Guacamole green,  _Crème de Pêche_ , and Mango Mojito which was a blend of yellow and orange. Where she wanted Alice’s dress to transcend time and style she wanted her dress to reflect the colors of the season fully utilizing Pantone’s color trends.

It took both attendants and Kady making sure that everything was in place and that nothing ripped or snagged to get Alice into her dress. Taking a look at herself in the mirror she audibly gasped. She was never surprised by Kady’s talent but always surprised at how transformed her designs made people look. For the first time since she had arrived, she truly felt like she appeared to belong. 

One of the attendants peeked outside to see if their car had arrived. Instead, the castle had been lit from the ground and a small group of photographers were waiting at the bottom of the walkway. More than that but a carriage that had to be at least three hundred years old was waiting just behind the photographers. It was a closed carriage with eight windows all around for transparency of the occupant. The wood doors were covered in floral filigree and gold horse statues circling the roof. A driver was sitting at the front with a footman waiting beside the door. 

“My lady, it’s time to go,” the woman curtsied to her. “Your king is waiting.”

Alice’s eyes went wide, “Quentin is here?” She looked at Kady trying not to chew at her lip. “I guess we should go.”

“You’re beautiful, but I’m not going with you.”

“But you said you were! You’re dressed for it!”

Kady rolled her eyes, “I’m going to the party, stupid. But I’m not riding with you. Vance has a ticket and invited me.” She shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly but her smirk betrayed her facade. She took one last look over Alice and her creation and nodded. “Oh wait! I forgot!” She rushed off to her work station and brought back a winter white fluffy shearling caplet and muff. Kady took care to tie it around Alice’s shoulders if anything to prolong their time just a little bit longer. “Okay. Go take this country by storm and show this cunt who’s really queen”

“Team Blonde Bitch,” Alice affirmed.

“Team Blonde Bitch,” Kady echoed.

Vance had been waiting outside of the residences, dressed in an immaculate tuxedo because of course he was. He offered his arm so that she could have something to hold onto.He remarked at how beautiful she looked and Alice countered with how stunned he was going to be when he saw his date. Once they got close to where he might be seen he departed back to the residences allowing her to walk the rest of the way on her own. She appeared in the large entryway, the double doors opened wide and the ground lights illuminating her entrance setting the beading on her dress ablaze. 

Her heart caught in her throat at the sight of Quentin. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him until she saw him. He looked every part both her Quentin and his Kingly self. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a royal sash across his shoulder. He was wearing his crown, the silver arches leading to a jeweled cross. The photogs started taking pictures furiously asking for her to look their way, it took a moment but she was able to tear her eyes from her significant other and smile to each. 

Stopping just before him, she took her right hand out of her muff and held it out to him, palm down, fingers soft, like Fen had taught her, and dipped into a low curtsy. Without missing a beat, Quentin took her hand, bowed slightly and kissed her hand. “I want to hug you so much. But if anything were to happen to this dress Kady would kill us both,” she whispered.

Quentin beamed, “You are so beautiful. I mean, you’re always beautiful, but tonight you look resplendent.” He had begun to his nervous stutter, “that’s not to say you never look resplendent. I just mean-”

Alice placed her hand upon his lips. “Quentin,” she stopped his rambling, “thank you.” Too afraid to kiss her in public or dying by Kady Orloff-Diaz’s hand he took the hand covering his mouth, tipped it and kissed her palm. It was the most intimate thing he could think to do.

While they were greeting each other the footman had placed a box step for ease into the coach and soon the two were off to the ball. The horses did not make for a smooth ride but the crowds lining the streets as they made their way to the main palace allowed for that to be ignored. 

Alice realized upon entering the palace grounds that Quentin had undersold the majesty of the evening. Trees were covered in lights creating an amazing visual parade. Inside they were greeted with the end of the processional of guests. The pair was brought to a green room for their own entrance. Alice lifted her chin at the sight of Eliot and Margo. Quentin cleared his throat to get their attention and was received with their practiced plastered smiles. “Eliot. Margo. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Quentin,” Margo kissed both of his cheeks. She looked over Alice with appreciation. “And who is your most alluring guest?”

Quentin rubbed the back of his neck, “Margo, you know very well who Alice is,” a warning creeping into his tone.

Margo laughed passive aggressively. “I am so sorry that I did not recognize you without your books. You almost look European!”

“Your highness,” Alice curtsied deeply before Margo. “Thank you for noticing, I only had your image to aspire to.” Fen bit her glove covered knuckle failing to keep in her snicker. “Oh Fen,” Alice began ignoring Eliot completely. “You look stunning, green really is your color.”

“Oh, Alice you’re breathtaking!” She blushed.

An attendant interrupted the possible cat fight to let the royal family know it was time for their entrance. Quentin led Alice to the front with his ranking being technically less than the other two. “Quentin?” he heard Margo call. Instead of rising to her challenge he shot her a hard look. He knew that she was going to try and make Alice go through the scullery or something. Rarely did he get confrontational, truly confrontational, with his two oldest friends so when he did it held weight. “... You two look very nice.”

Similar to the opening ceremony Quentin and Alice were introduced then Eliot and Fen with Margo going last. Alice nodded to those who clapped for her and gave her a warm welcome. Quentin took her around the room to introduce her to the dignitaries in attendance. Without missing a beat, she introduced herself properly and impress them with knowing about them. 

“How…?” He whispered to her during the promenade.

“Zelda.” That was really all that needed to be said. She would later find out that Zelda had tutored the three royals in the same way that she had done Alice.

When appetizers made their rounds Quentin did the best he could to shield her from being offered items he thought she might not like to save her from the embarrassment of having to decline. Instead she politely chastised him saying she had confidence in Josh’s ability and reminding him of the hospitality of the season. She remembered to keep her drink full even if she wouldn’t drink to prevent her from any possibility of making a mistake. 

When the band struck up a waltz, Eliot was soon at Quentin’s side asking him to dance. “I don’t think that is appropriate, El.”

“But we always have the first dance. It’s the only way that you feel comfortable with the rest of your dance card,” his hand waiting.

“But you have Fen,” Quentin reminded.

Eliot, smoothed down his cravat, clearing his throat. “She’s my wife,” he softly gritted.

“Yes, I know,” Quentin smiled and offered his hand to Alice.

A path was made for the couple as they made their way to the middle of the dance floor other couples circling the perimeter. “Quentin, you hate to dance.” She put herself in hold just as Fen and Vance had taught her. 

“Do I?” Quentin smirked. They twirled a beautiful Venetian waltz, Alice’s dress catching the light and making a spectacular display on the floor. She saw Kady and Vance, and Penny and Julia, along with Eliot and Fen. Alice looked for Margo hoping that she didn’t have her feet on some poor soul as a foot rest. She had hoped that maybe Josh could be pulled from the kitchens or that she would have a duke keeping her company. No, instead, Alice spied Margo sitting on her throne above the guests. 

Once all the introductions had been made and the inaugural dance had been performed familiar groups began to form. Alice Penny and Julia made their way over to Alice and Quentin. Lively chatter filled the room and the couples began to split as Alice and Julia found Zelda, Fen, and Kady. Alice had to tamp down her emotions every time she looked for Quentin only to find him drinking with Eliot’s arm slung across his shoulders. The ex-paramours shared couple of dances to the delight of many attendees. 

“They truly do make a beautiful couple, don’t you think?” Margo’s sharp tongue broke through Alice’s haze when she watched her boyfriend dance with his ex for a  _ third _ time. It was almost as sharp as the points on her _sept pointu_ crown. The silver was polished and the onyx, amethysts, sapphires, and emeralds gleamed in the light. 

“It’s hard for people to let go of the past,” Alice concurred. “Sometimes,” she gave Margo the once over, her eyes dragging over the high and extremely sharp looking crown, “they hide behind their armor out of fear of the future.”

Margo took note of Alice’s poise and grace. Alice’s normally sharp pitch was soft and serene. “Tell me, Alice, what about the future do you fear?”

Quentin, sweaty and determined, made a beeline for Alice. His thoughts weren’t on what Margo might be trying to goad out of her but instead to keep her as a barrier against Eliot. Alice smiled at the sight of him. All she could think of was how good his behavior was and how it must upset his social anxiety just to be here. She looked at Margo, peace filling her eyes, before she let her boyfriend whisk her away. “Absolutely nothing.” 

Engela had a piece of wisdom that rang through several of her journals. It was something she always told her subjects when they feared times got too tough. “If you fear it will come to pass, then it will come to pass.” Through dinner, Quentin had made sure to keep them far from Eliot or Margo but it didn’t stop people from asking cryptic questions. Alice did her best to keep the fear away, especially after standing up to the High Queen. It was true, she didn’t fear the future, but she did fear what scheme the High King and Queen were planning. It was just before midnight on Christmas Eve that the guillotine rang down the posts. 

The lights had dimmed and moods were lifted from good food, music, conversation, and the overall holiday spirit. Back in the ballroom for a more modern take on the party with all formalities now over with Margo rang her knife against her champagne flute gathering the crowd’s attention. “My countrymen, another year has come and is about to depart. I cannot express my love and gratitude for each and every one of you that I am so happy to be able to bring you the gift I have always wanted to bestow. Could my fellow noblemen stand with me?” 

Eliot moved with his silky grace to the middle of the floor and tried to offer his Sovereign his arm but was silently rejected. Each man took their place by their High Queen’s side. They knew what they were giving their country and they thought they knew what Margo had planned as well. Nothing to them was out of place. “I know that they think they know what my annual gift will be. I will have to beg for their forgiveness that I have kept them out of the loop.” Eliot’s laid-back mask slipped for a moment before he replaced it again. Quentin didn’t even try to hide his confusion, even when the two men shared a look. “We have been waiting for our dear sister to return to us. Our country has been waiting for over eighty years for our Sovereign Queen to return. Through threats of coups and when investigations into their whereabouts had gone cold, the spirits of our Ancients has delivered her to us.” 

The color from Quentin’s face started to drain. He had left Alice in the back of the room by herself. His eyes darted quickly hoping to locate her and an easy exit for the two of them to escape. If Ess had been able to execute the plan they thought he was then he knew they would have to get out and  _ fast _ . “The most amazing part about all of this, is that you have met her and she has enthralled all of us with her elegance and exotic allure. She has charmed her way through all of our hearts.” Quentin swallowed thickly, his fingers twitching, and his toes pressing into the floor ready to bolt. “And the most amazing part about all of this is she never knew! At first, we were not sure. We did not want to be hasty about anything. We needed to know for certain and we have been able to confirm the lineage.

“My fellow countrymen please, let me gift to you, your Sovereign Queen… Great-Granddaughter to Aida Bosshart, granddaughter to Lisa Miller,” Alice could feel her blood pounding in her ears, the air becoming thick around her, her dress making it too difficult for her to breath. There is always a moment when you know something is about to happen. A sixth sense that isn’t exactly a premonition. Maybe it was the way Margo’s stare was drilling a hole into her skull or maybe that it was she somehow, in the back of her mind, figured it out. From the tapestry on her first day to Oma’s non-existent shop, neon signs had been flashing over her head the entire time and she just chose to ignore it. It took every piece of her being to hold it together when Margo dared to say Stephanie’s name. Alice looked to Quentin hopefully believing this was all just one horrible trick. That it was the final nail in the coffin Margo was trying to bury Alice in but his face said it all.

“Miss Alice Quinn!” He knew. He had always known. Quentin knew the truth of her family and he never said a word. The entire room turned towards Alice, even though no physical spotlight flashed upon her it didn’t stop the room from darkening around her. Alice waited a moment, a single beat, for Oma’s voice to ring through her thoughts but nothing came. Alice knew she had to do something. Step forward, show her gratitude, take Engela’s oath, but she couldn’t. No matter how much she willed her feet to move forward instead she was out of the ballroom, down the corridor, and out into the wintry night. 

If looks could kill, Quentin’s would have caused a massacre. Eliot had wrangled the microphone from Margo’s hand and their security team had been able to exit her without much fuss. In a moment of much needed solidarity Eliot addressed the guests saying something along the lines of how attention shy Alice is and that their High Queen got wrapped up in the moment all to give Quentin a graceful way to follow his runaway girlfriend. 

Wordlessly the servants all directed him where they had seen her last which was running down the paved walkway to the stables. Sure enough that was where he found her stroking the muzzle of one of the horses as she fed it sugar cubes. “Alice…” 

She sniffled trying to compose herself. “Quentin.”

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t know she was going to do that. She-she wasn’t supposed… I-I mean that wasn’t what she said…” his anxiety had settled into him deeply but he stopped when she raised her hand to him.

“You knew.” She couldn’t wait for confirmation because she already had it. “Did you know when we first met? Was that why you sought me out? Because I looked like Engela? Because you knew about my  _ family _ ?”

“I-I didn’t… I mean I had a feeling… b-but I didn’t… know… for certain. Yes, you look like Engela but that didn’t prove anything. A-and when we had tried to find you… your family… nothing panned out.” He approached her slowly afraid she might run again. “When I saw you… you were the most beautiful woman I had ever met. And when you told me what you did, I thought for certain that you knew but you-you never said anything. And then when you let me read your pages I thought surely it would be written but when you said nothing about Fillory I realized… I realized that you didn’t know anything and I let myself believe that I was wrong.”

“You lied to me… for a  _ year _ Quentin! You lied to me about Fillory and being a king! The whole time I was here, what you were researching my family?!” Alice had begun to pace. She still kept in mind how delicate her dress was and she respected Kady too much to let it get ruined.

“I… I mean,  _ we _ started to when you got here… yes. When Margo saw you she started the investigation again. B-but you have to believe me! I didn’t know she was going to do what she did tonight! She wasn’t  _ supposed  _ to. She  _ told  _ us she was going to do something else.” Quentin had taken his crown off long ago. It was too heavy for prolonged wear and all it did was leave a dent in his hair. He stuffed both of his hands into his long locks trying to find the words, hoping to say the right thing, fearing the worst. “She was right though…”

“About what?” Alice pressed the size of her finger beneath her eyes catching tears as to not ruin her mascara.

“That the country has fallen in love with you… Each night when we make our appearances they ask about you. Children bring flowers. I have bouquets worth just sitting in water waiting for you. I mean…” he motioned wildly to the outside “you have spent time with them. You have been out in what is rightfully your territory-”

“My territory?! Quentin do you even hear yourself?! I’m  _ not _ a queen. I have no right to be queen!”

“But you do…” he tried to take her hands in his. Her ice cold digits slipping from them. “We all grew up thinking that you would just… come back! It never occurred to us that we would never be discussed. We have  _ all _ grown up believing that you… I mean, your family would come back to us.”

“And what about what I want? Did you… did  _ any of you _ think about what  _ I _ might want? Not every American girl wants to be a princess, Quentin.” She broke his name up into its syllables to prove her rage.

“You were… you were studying so much about Engela… I thought… I hoped that you were possibly falling in love with what it would be to take her place…” 

“How?! How could I even begin to do that?” She flailed her arms about trying to show the ludicrousy of that notion.

“You are  _ so _ smart, and  _ so _ perceptive that I thought for certain you would figure it out. When I… when I took you to their quarters and showed you the letter… I thought that would put two and two together. When it didn’t… I don’t know… I waited! Then you went to the South Quadrant and  _ The Burg _ that I figured it was only a matter of time! I get… that that was a reach. I know. But when you grow up  _ believing _ something... “ He couldn’t tell if he was making sense anymore. 

“Quentin… I don’t think… I don’t think I can do this. I  _ miss _ you. I miss  _ us _ . I miss who we were back in Chicago. I don’t think I can do… all of  _ this _ .” She twirled around trying to imagine the entirety of the country in her mind. 

“I know… But… you don’t have to choose.” Quentin lowered himself down to one knee and pulled out a small velvet box. She gasped in response. This could not be happening. “Alice Quinn… I have never loved anyone like I love you.”

“What about Eliot?” If she was combative maybe she could end this. 

“Not like I love you. And I don’t care what anyone else says. I only care about what  _ you  _ say. I know this isn’t the most ideal time… but really when is it?” It was a bad joke, he knew it the moment it left his lips. “Alice Quinn… will you marry me?” He opened the box to reveal an opulent engagement ring. The yellow gold band housed a princess cut emerald with a pave of diamonds around it. 

Alice took the box from his hand. She studied the ring for a long while, letting the tears fall down her cheeks. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. We were supposed to go out to a nice dinner and take a walk in Grant Park eating doughnuts. You were supposed to sit me down on a bench and take my hands as you got down on one knee and stayed silent because even if your mind was screaming the words you couldn’t get them out. Our anniversary… that was when it was supposed to happen.”

“I know… If I could go back…”

“No. If you wanted to then you would have. You might be nervous about things but when it is something you truly want…” she wiped her tears away closing the box without touching the contents. “I can’t Quentin… I love you. I love you so much but… this isn’t how it is supposed to go. Your country needs you.”

“ _ I need you _ ,” he pleaded. “I will abdicate my throne for you. I  _ don’t  _ want it. You. You are all I want. Please… Alice…” the light of the stables lit her from behind giving her an ethereal halo.

Alice placed the box back in his hands and kissed his forehead like he had done to her so many times. She let her lips linger not wanting to pull away but knowing she had to leave. “I’m sorry…” she sobbed. “I’ll make sure my things are packed and I will be gone in the morning. Please,” she begged as she backed away from him, his hands grasping fruitlessly for her, “let me go.” 

Alice disappeared into the darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

The day Alice left, Kady ran interference for her with Quentin. He had made sure to order them a jet so they wouldn’t have to fly commercial. He begged Kady to let him do this for them. If anything, it was for him to know that they were safe. Kady told him to get his head on straight. It was a horrible and partially dangerous trope but Kady knew her friend and told him to not stop trying. She knew that Alice wouldn’t get over him. He was her lobster. But Quentin needed to get his affairs in order first. He needed to grow a uterus, man down, and woman up. He was going to have to decide where he wanted his life to go because he couldn’t split between the two. He needed to put his foot down for once to Margo and Eliot. That was really the only way he was going to get everything on track.

Alice had let Fen and Josh and Zelda in to see her. She said proper goodbyes to them and made Zelda join their whatsapp group to keep in touch. But if Alice realized they weren’t staying in a motel in Zurich, or flying commercial back home she didn’t let on. She didn’t speak the entire trip home. She didn’t watch TV or look at her phone or even read a book. She simply looked outside or slept. 

Kady had prepared Daniel by telling him everything. Daniel stayed quiet when they arrived home and he picked them up from the airport. He held her in a big hug as she told him how much she missed him and that she had made a terrible mistake. He shushed her through all of it. She didn’t go back to her place instead taking up residence in her circa 2004 decorated room. 

New Years came and went with Alice barely leaving her room. At first she just slept. Everyone told themselves it was to get rid of the jet lag. When she started to appear it was because she chose to shower every three or four days. She binged her Netflix queue and ignored all calls and texts. Especially those coming from Fillory.

Finally, after her publisher threatened to cancel her contract she finished up her book. Her editor gushed about the angst filled ending. The raw emotion of how she described Fillory and the passion of the people for their South Quadrant Queen, and how she set up the country and their religious mark on the world was inspiring. 

In the middle of January Alice started to take shifts at the bookstore slowly. She started with inventory and moved on to shelving books. Anything to stay out of the way of everyone really. With the influx of customers their once dusty storage room was cycling through its piles. Daniel had decided to maximize their potential by offering online shopping. Alice spotted a box on a top shelf shoved into a corner. It took her three tries with a step stool and trying to balance on the aluminum shelving to pull it down. Stephanie’s name was scrawled over the top in big bold letters in black sharpie. The tape had gone yellow and started to lift. 

Alice was careful not to rip anything taking great care with the box itself. It was heavy and Alice hoped that she might have found a gold mine of memories between her mother and father. Instead she found a stack of books. There were romance novels, history books, biographies, and regular fiction. They must have been her mother’s favorites as the covers were worn and the pages dog-eared. At the bottom was a small travel book about Europe. Flipping through the pages a glossy photo, tinged with yellow, fell out. It was of Stephanie when Alice must have been about three. They were standing on a cobblestone street, Alice in Stephanie’s arms. Alice never remembered going to Europe as a child.

She bolted up the stairs calling out for her father. It was the most movement or speech she had made in weeks. Daniel was in the middle of checking out a customer when he heard the commotion. Both he and the guest stopped and stared at Alice. Both were confused but for wildly different reasons. Daniel stumbled on who to give his attention to before hurriedly finishing with the customer. He called for one of the other employees to take over the register before pulling Alice into his office. “Darling… what is it?”

Alice handed him the photo. “When did I go to Europe?” She was afraid to call it for what she thought it was. She knew what it looked like. But she didn’t want Margo to be right. She didn’t want to know that there were people out there who knew her family when she didn’t.

Daniel sat down heavily as if is body aged fifty years in a few seconds. “Where, um… where did you find this?”

“It was in a box with mom’s name on it. It was in a travel book. Why?”

“You didn’t… _go_ to Europe. You were… you were born there.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off of the photograph. The image of his wife young and happy made his heart ache.

“What?!” Alice screeched. She began to pace. “I was _born_ in Europe. I’ve seen my birth certificate! It says Chicago!”

“You’re a dual citizen,” he supplied weakly. “Your mother wanted you to be born where her family came from. She wanted you to have a connection to her home…”

Alice chewed on her nail processing all of the possible outcomes. “...you knew.” She looked at her father who stayed silent, his eyes transfixed to the photograph. “You knew about Fillory! You knew and you didn’t tell me? When I told you about Quentin and Fillory you _didn’t say_ _anything_. You didn’t think that I might need to know that I _came from_ the country where my boyfriend...” the moniker caught in her throat. They hadn’t exactly broken up but they weren’t together. Alice took a breath, blinking back tears. “Why would you keep this from me?”

Daniel sighed. He fucked up. He knew he did. But he was trying to stay true to his late wife’s wishes. “Your mother promised me not to say anything until you came asking. She has something for you, if this day ever came.”

The two went upstairs to the apartment above the store. From the back of the closet he pulled down a sturdy oak chest. “I’m sorry honey. I just didn’t want this day to come.” This was one of those fabled moments when a child realizes their parents are human. He’d lost his wife and he was afraid of losing his daughter. She understood intellectually but emotionally...?

“You’re not going to lose me, dad.” 

He nodded at the platitude. “I’ll give you some time.”

Alice was left in her room with the chest sitting on the floor. It was a substantial size. Not something that could rest easily on her lap. She ran her hands over the top, clearing the years of dust. Carvings of rams and trees and fruit. It was the same fresco as Engela’s throne. The hinges creaked when opened. Inside were letters tied with ribbon, needlepoints, and pictures. Lots of pictures. Alice looked through all of them trying to find a connection. They were of people she didn’t know and held only the barest resemblance. She went through them again and again. She lingered longer on those of her mom hoping to just grasp a spark through the veil. 

Alice read through all of the letters. Some had been meant to be sent back home but the sender never followed through. All messages centered around daily life in America and how they longed to come home but the ancients told them it wasn’t time. But they kept promising soon. 

At the bottom of the box lay a small silver frame, simple in design. It was old, probably one of the first photographs ever taken in Fillory. Alice recognized the dress at first. It was the green dress that Quentin had showed her. Black age spots freckled the picture but Alice studied the face. _It belonged to the grandmother of the last reigning queen… She was called ‘Grandmother’..._

Alice gasped, the picture tumbling back into the box. Grandmother. The man said that “Oma” meant “Grandmother”... Alice was a student of religion as much as she was history. She had a base belief in spirits and gods and entities from “the other side” but she never in her wildest dreams had expected to be visited by one. Not when she was lucid at least! The woman in the picture was younger, but the eyes were the same. She picked up the frame and looked into the woman’s eyes. Why did she visit? Why did she tell Alice to choose a path? She made it seem like it was so clear but in reality it had been covered in a mudslide. 

Underneath where the frame had landed was a white envelope. Stiff from time but unaged. There was scotch tape on either side like it had fallen down during its wait. Flipping it over, her name was written across the top in her mother’s distinctive handwriting. Alice moved back to her bed, her joints protesting, clutching to the picture of Oma as she read her mother’s letter.

_My Darling Alice,_

_If you are reading this then I am gone and you know the truth. I’m sorry I left you and your father. It was never my intention to leave so soon. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done and the part I played. I don’t know how you found out, but I am hoping that your studies took you somewhere exciting or you are getting ready to be married. I hope you aren’t reading this because you found a box with a bunch of heirlooms you have no idea about._

_I hope you understand my motivations for doing what I did. It was never my intent to hide you away. I just wanted you to live the fullest life possible without being bogged down by expectation and duty you were too young to understand. You are descended from a long line of strong and powerful women. You, my beautiful girl, are a queen. Not just any queen. You are descended from one of the most powerful queens in all of Europe. I’m not sure how much of our history has survived or even if our country still exists. But you are entitled to something so much more, if you choose to take it._

_I didn’t. I liked my life too much and I loved your father too much to try and subject him to what I feared would be the life of a house cat. Someone to put on display at parties. When our family left, it was to hide out of persecution. Each generation after has been given a choice. To take the throne again or to leave it for the next. I wish I could tell you what to do. But that path is for you to choose. All you have to do is take that first step._

_The proof you need is in the chest. Specifically in a box with rams heads on the lid. They are called Ember and Umber and they were the gods Engela believed in the most. If you don’t go back, then no one will blame you. All I and your ancestors ask is that if you tell your daughter when she becomes of age so she can make her own decision._

_No matter what you decide to do know I will always love you. I cherished watching you play dress up in my clothes and listening to you read to me as you fell asleep. You are strong and capable and I wish that I could be half the woman I know you will grow up to be._

_Love,_ _  
_ _Mom_

Alice cried herself into a nap picturing her mother spooning her from behind. There was so much lost time between them and Alice mourned the time they never had. She had dreams of her mother and of Oma and the other women she had recognized from the photos. It was dark when she woke up, the midwinter sun having set. Flipping on the lamp next to her bed, she hefted the the wooden box up onto her bed and dug through looking for the box her mother mentioned. Alice thought it would be small like a ring box. Instead it was the size of a cigar box but taller. It was ornately carved in Engela’s symbols of fertility, women, the hunt, and the overall circle of life. 

Knowing what she discovered and comparing herself against Engela, Alice could not find any similarities. Weren’t the heroines always supposed to be innately connected? Wasn’t she supposed to be the reincarnation of the past? _What about the future do you fear?_ Oma’s words came forward. Nothing. That’s what she told Margo. Nothing. She wasn’t afraid of the future. Taking a deep breath, Alice lifted the lid believing this could be the first step. 

Inside lay a very tarnished silver crown. Alice’s fingers itched to touch it knowing just how old it could be. Quentin had told her that their crowns had been passed down for centuries. Margo looked like she had modified hers but it could have been a band that detached. Knowing the nature of metal, thanks to the unsolicited and in depth explanation by Fen, Alice knew she could touch it with her fingers without issue. 

She lifted it slowly and took in the winding pieces. The piece wasn’t cast it was bent and formed this way. It had four spires equidistant around the circumference with the front spire being the tallest and two smaller spires in between each. There were smooth amethysts formed as grapes, rubies shaped as apples, emeralds cut into leaves, and little onyxes for the eyes of the animals woven into the metal. It looked like one continuous piece. Again there were rams and deer and vines; each small spire had an alchemical symbol; the front piece had an elaborate star, with the other three representing the sun and moon and earth. There was a thin strip of velvet that had to have been added within the past few centuries. 

_Past few centuries_ … Alice was touching something that was close to a millennia old. She placed it as gingerly in the box as she could. 

\---

Alice sat on the information that proved her title. Her phone kept getting news updates from Swiss and German news sites about where she had gone. To Quen’s credit he kept them away from her saying that she needed time to process the information. She was so thankful that Fillory was so small that it wouldn’t be picked up by mainstream media even if she was an American. When the bubble of silence became too terrible to handle she called Kady. 

Kady convinced her to put it all away and have some fun. Alice got back to work helping with her dad and working on the edits her editor sent her and she let Kady take her out to bars and clubs and help her develop a new persona. One night Kady announced to the bar that Alice was a queen and the entire bar cheered. Later she received compliments on the work she had done. Wrong kind of queen.

It was when she was sitting in the corner of a bar, as Kady danced with a possible bedfellow, flipping through the photos of her crown - she had taken what seemed like a thousand pictures from every possible angle to know exactly what everything meant, that she decided to check her Whatsapp. She had messaged the group earlier in the week asking what should she do if “hypothetically” she had found Engela’s crown. _Her crown_. If she really wanted it she could have it. The chat had blown up and looked like she had ignored them all. It ranged from Fen’s over exuberance to Zelda giving her a list of resources and finally just begging Alice to bring it back.

Alice closed the window with an _I’m good. Thanks for your well wishes!_ and opened another.

_Hi._


	21. Chapter 21

Alice finished ringing up a customer when she remarked at how sunny it was that day. In the Midwest, February is notorious for being the worst month out of the year. Constant cloud cover, bitter cold winds, and any snow that may fall comes down as a grey slush. Not today. Alice stood in the window letting the light warm her skin.

Limos were not a familiar sight in Chicago like they are in New York. Especially on a little side street like hers. And they definitely didn’t bear the flag of Fillory on the sides. Alice looked at herself, she was not in any state to meet any kind of dignitary from Fillory no matter who it might be. She ran upstairs as fast as she could telling a scared clerk to take over. Running a brush through her hair and fixing her mascara she heard Oma’s voice call out to her. 

_ Take a step _

The knock on the door interrupted her interlude. The scared shitless clerk was the one who knocked saying that there was a guy looking for her. Alice wished she could play dumb, but she knew it was Quentin. The confused look on the clerk’s face said it all. Alice began to leave but turned back to grab something out of the chest.

The confusion became clear when she saw how he was dressed. She tried not to laugh, she really did. But soft giggles found their escape. He was dressed very ornately in a black velvet overcoat with gold embroidery, black leggings, and black leather cavalier boots. A large royal purple cape covered his shoulders and almost touched the ground. “Quen…” She took a breath to compose herself. “What are you wearing?”

“I told you, that if I ever hurt you, truly hurt you I would fall on my sword. This… is me falling on my sword.” He looked at her with those puppy dog brown eyes and she felt her heart melt. He looked ridiculous. He would look fantastic if he were in a movie or five hundred years prior. If she would let herself be honest she would tell herself that he just looked fantastic. He would always look fantastic to her.

“Yes you did,” she conceded. After a moment of silence they began together “Quen-”

“Alice-” They laughed nervously. “Please, can I go first?” Alice nodded. “I fucked up. I know that. I fucked up in so many ways. When you left… I know what I had done wrong. You watch the movies and you read the books and when the characters are in these types of situations you think you know what you would do. And then you find yourself in that position and you realize it’s not that simple. I should have never kept anything from you. I didn’t know how to tell you. I guess I had hoped you would have figured it out. I took you to the armory to put you on the path to discovering it.”  _ Take a step… _

“I know, Quen,” she used his old name again. “You’re right, it should have been clear to me. I saw that tapestry and it looked like a mirror. Even if everyone hopes, no one really believes that it could happen to them. You have to promise me that you will  _ never _ do anything like that again. We can’t keep secrets from each other.”

Tears began to well in his eyes. She was talking about the future. This was going so much better than planned! “These past two months have been absolute hell without you. I never want to spend this much time away from you again. Kady told me I needed to choose a side because I couldn’t straddle both worlds. I don’t care what people expect of me, all I care about is what you think of me. My place is by your side. Just tell me what you want and I will be there.”

“Quentin… Your people-”

“Are in good hands. You don’t think Margo could run that place by herself?” He smiled cheekily. 

“Margo…  _ and _ Eliot.” Alice puffed out her cheeks letting the air stream out. “Quentin, if you follow me, then there  _ cannot _ be any opposition. No surprise visits, no paparazzi, no propositions for orgies,” she rolled her eyes at the last one.    
  
“You won’t have to worry about any of that.” In a cheeky move he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. The snap was disappointingly soft. He held up a finger for patience, rubbed his thumb and middle fingers together before letting out a loud snap. 

Alice giggled, “you are so dumb sometimes.” But the giggle was swallowed at the sight of Margo walking into the store. 

Margo looked around the place trying to see if she should be disgusted or not. At Quentin’s look of warning she kept her hands to herself, resisting the urge to check for dust. “Alice it is clear that Quentin loves you. And it was wrong of me to try and interfere with that. I was sincere when I said that you put my country,” Quentin cleared his throat, “ _ our _ country in thrall. They really do love you. I am…  _ sorry _ for the way I treated you.”

Alice wanted so badly to jut her hip out and cross her arms like Kady did; but, queens are graceful. “Are you only apologizing because your country is revolting?”

“They’re not! …Okay so they aren’t exactly  _ happy _ with me right now. I thought I knew what was best but you showed me that there are other ways.” She had apologized once. Margo was not going to keep saying that she was in the wrong. “When I told you that I like competition it was because I wanted you to know that I had found my equal. Someone who could keep me on my path.”  _ Take a step… _

Alice gave Alice a nod and a bob of a curtsy. “I know that wasn’t easy to say, so thank you. Apology accepted.”

Margo pulled out a legal manila envelope and handed it over to her Sovereign. A twitch of sadness crossed her face. He opened the fold and pulled out the contents showing their heading, “these are my abdication papers. With my signature, my cousin will take over and I will be free to live here, in my little shop, fixing things with the most amazing historian who works in a little bookshop across the street.” 

Alice sniffled and blinked back the swell of tears. It wasn’t doughnuts in Grant Park but it was perfect. “You have to ask me first,” she whispered.

“Right!” He tossed part of the cape behind him with a flourish, Margo stepped back so it wouldn’t hit her in the face and got down on one knee. In future tellings he did so with the grace of a dancer. In reality, the clothing was so heavy he almost tipped over. It all made Alice that much happier. He pulled the ring box from a secret pocket and opened it to the ring he had showed her once before. “Alice Quinn… Will you do me the honor of living a quiet and what some would call ‘boring’ life with me as my wife?”

It was such an odd choice of words he used. Thinking back she realized she had given him the impression that she wanted him to abdicate. Live this little life with her in America. Alice Quinn and Quen Coldwater. “Well… I don’t know if ‘boring’ would be the word I would choose…” She said slyly. From behind her back, she pulled a tall box. Flipping the latch she opened the lid to reveal her crown. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to the full version of The Crown's theme to this chapter. It was an inspiration of mine and something that I listened to on repeat while writing this.

***

**TEN MONTHS LATER**

***

Alice felt a sense of _deja vu_ with all of the excitement buzzing around her. This time it was different. This time she was on her own. She could still hear the music and the voices of the parade participants. She saw the Santas from all over the world. This year they had choreographed a break dance style performance. She was sad she was going to miss it. Though, they gave her a sneak peek while she sat in her coach. Quentin had come to visit apologizing that he wouldn’t be riding with her. He wanted to sit with her he was thoroughly afraid of the possibility of fucking up her look. It had taken hours for her to get ready. 

She shrugged a cape covered shoulder. The crisp night air felt amazing on her skin compared to all of the layers she was wearing. Her gown was green velvet and ivory silk. Kady had spent weeks studying the Worth gown in the South Tower of the palace. Vance had overseen the garment study and would only let her touch it when he was present. Granted, she wasn’t too terribly upset by that notion. Kady had spent hours embroidering the bottom of the skirt and the bodice with symbols of Fillory. The sweetheart neckline was more daring than she was used to and the lacing of the corset kept her posture pristine. 

She had practiced every day for weeks the proper way to be coronated. She watched videos online and read every book Zelda gave her; but, none of it could have prepared her for this moment. Quentin gave her a quick kiss on the cheek so her makeup wouldn’t flake off and returned to his own carriage. This year Eliot and Fen led their caravan, Quentin was second, and Margo third. She tried to get herself to go last which was turned down by all parties involved. They tried to make it so that she and Quentin rode together but she had to finally admit that three was not appropriate on a coach. Josh’s blonde head sat in front of her as he played a video game on his phone. They were the most unlikely pair. But that was Fillory, wasn’t it?

Alice turned her head down to her lap and pulled out the small leather bound book she had received almost a year ago. Yes, the first page was a recipe but the following pages were so much more. They were all pages filled with letters to the successor. They spoke of celebrations and hard times; policy and secrets; most importantly, they were all letters of love and encouragement. Each night she read a letter unsure if she would get through it or not. 

Taking a deep breath she came to the last entry. It was dated on the day of Alice’s birth. She spoke of the future and what it might hold and who she might marry. Stephanie tried to figure out when Alice would graduate high school and what her college major would be. It was the ramblings of a mother in love with her newborn. It finished with  _ I could not find the courage to come back. Times have changed so much and as I sit here, my identity guarded, I still find myself a stranger to this land. This world is yours my darling baby girl. Take it. Take that step and usher in a new age. _ Alice silently thanked the scientists who invented false lashes and waterproof mascara. “I will mom,” she prayed silently as her coach began to rock forward. 

The processional went on as expected, Alice waved to the crowds and kept her smile bright while she clutched her little book as tightly as possible. Just like the year before she was brought into a blinding light show as she came to the center. She had missed it but Josh had given her a lovely intro for all of the crowd to witness. Waiting at the end of the steps was Quentin offering his hand and his guide. His sovereignty gracing hers as they ascended to her throne. She was to be perpendicular to the crowd. There were cameras all around so that every angle could be seen and each word could be heard. 

Alice had refused the aid of maidens when this began and for once in her life she was questioning her decision. Quentin kept a hard grip on her hand as she fixed her skirt around the low pedestal to kneel upon. She faced south, to  _ her _ quadrant. The quadrant where all of her ancestors had come from. She looked up at Eliot waiting to hear the words he had prepared. The country went silent with her. He could still deny her her birthright. He could still instill Fen as the Sovereign. The entire country was silent; their fear the same as hers. 

“It is not every day that we are graced by a soul who has the ability to mend rifts. It is not every day that we are shown signs, by our ancestors, that the woman haloed in blonde has been delivered to us by them. Throughout this year we have watched and waited in hopes that our prayers have finally been answered. Many epithets have been written about the struggles of leaders. But a true leader is one who understands those who follow. Someone who will stand up for other people no matter what it costs them. Somebody who has taught me about the person I want to be.”

A loud screech of feedback from microphones rang throughout the speakers making the crowd cry out in pain. Technicians worked furiously to fix the problem but one look into Eliot’s eyes, Alice realized that it had been planned. “I feel like it is incumbent upon me to promise to never betray you like I did,” he continued secure that no one could hear his words. It wasn’t for anyone to know but them. And even if the country couldn’t be privy to the apology, it was important for him to say it to her during this sacred ceremony. “I really… I really am sorry. I have some character defects. I’m… working on it. Honestly.” 

Alice nodded her head slightly, accepting his apology. There was a loud click and a hum of connection. They were live again. Alice bowed her head waiting with bated breath. “I crown you,” his voice rang clear rolling over the valleys and echoing off of the mountains, “Alice the Wise Sovereign Queen of Fillory.” 

Legend would say that the crown was made to fit each wearer without modification. But in reality that was not the case. Alice remembered how Zelda’s eyes lit up at the sight of the lost artifact. She was afraid the librarian would lose her mind over its condition. Instead, Zelda saw it as a challenge. She spent every day overseeing the restoration. She called in Lars, Fen’s father, to clean and polish and fill the aging metal. The jewels were in incredible condition but had to be removed so that the rhodium plating and polish could take hold. Fen had sent Alice about a thousand pictures of the process and made sure that Alice knew what to look for when the sizing was happening. It really was only in fairy tales that a princess was crowned for the first time at her coronation without any fittings. Maybe tiaras were easier?

Though the moment the velvet padding fitted itself against her temple it felt like magic. The heavy metal of the crown fitted upon her head snugly like it had been specifically made for her.  _ Heavy is the head that wears the crown _ Shakespeare wrote, but all Alice felt was relief once it was there. Eliot took her by both of her hands and lifted her off of her knees. He kissed the backs signifying their new relationship. Alice couldn’t stop the blush from rising. He really was a charmer no matter the sex.

Pivoting with military precision, Eliot turned to face the south with his new Sovereign. A little blonde girl with red glasses walked up with a bouquet of flowers. Alice recognized her from the girl who had gifted her at last year’s festival. It was a gift from Margo. It was the High Queen’s way of bringing everything full circle. Alice deserved to be on the stage the year before just as she was now. “ _ Guten abend, Lara _ ” Alice said in Fillorian. Lara’s eyes went wide with excitement before she dropped into an adorable curtsy. Alice returned it but bent low enough to be on the child’s level. 

Lara led Alice in Engela’s prayer. Lara represented the next generation of their country; the one Alice was most responsible for, and the cause she would take the most seriously. This, like the year before, was a confirmation. At the end, Lara handed Alice the bouquet of Fillory’s flowers with Alice removing one and giving it to Lara as a gift. A symbol to show that for all Fillory would grant to her, she would give back to them. 

An attendant took the flowers and another removed the ottoman. Every detail to mitigate this moment had been planned out to the last detail. Again, with militaristic precision, Eliot pivoted to all in attendance. “Good people of Fillory! I present to you, descendant of our Magician Queen, elected official of the South Quadrant, our guiding star in our darkest of nights… Your Sovereign Queen Alice the Wise!” Alice reached into a hidden pocket of her robe. It had taken too many hours to get this move perfect and even now she feared something would go wrong. Alice pulled out the knife Lars had made for her the previous year. In practiced choreography her arm reached wide to the side, bending slightly at her elbow and tapped the tip to the star on the highest point of her crown eliciting a small ring from the metal kiss. She followed by taking the point and drew a shape upon her forehead, the symbol Oma had drawn upon herself, and then repeated over her heart. With a flourished flip of her wrist she shot her arm out to the side and then held the blade above her heart and dipped into another low curtsy. This time her knee hovering millimeters above the carpeted landing. Everyone in the crowd bowed to her granting her their loyalty. 

Alice was home.


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me through the end! I think it pretty fitting it ends on chapter 23 ;)

Berg Zaubrin was abuzz with activity. Florists and caterers and waiters were running too and from making sure that every detail was perfect. The chapel of Berg Zaubrin was only large enough to fit a couple hundred guests. Most were dignitaries and Quentin’s family but over the past year all had been able to become acquainted with their new queen and all were in attendance to support the union. While outside a large crowd gathered waiting for the uniting of their sovereign rulers. 

The hall was covered in burgundy and cream colored roses, chrysanthemums, and lilies. The walls were dripping with flowers bringing a spring like aroma to the atmosphere. Quentin and his groomsmen wore Navy suits, with the exception of Eliot who demanded a “pop” of color and wore a green velvet blazer atop his black tuxedo pants. He had asked several times if there was anything he could do. But all anyone would say is “stay sober and show up on time”. 

The bridal suite was filled with tulle, and silk; embroidery and rhinestones; and lots of champagne. Kady, Fen, and Julia were dressed in high-waisted, a-line, burgundy gowns with a deep v-neck. The silk dresses had an overlay of scattered gold tulle embellished with rhinestones to catch the light just right. Margo however was in the same dress but in green to match the High King. Green was the color of the South Quadrant and while Alice didn’t want to wear green herself, she manipulated Eliot and Margo into making it their idea to wear the color instead. 

The lights dimmed in the bridal suite a few times, alerting them to the time. As her attendants got in order, Daniel slipped into the room hoping to catch a moment with his daughter. “You… are beautiful. You look just like your mother,” he sighed wistfully. Alice’s wedding gown wasn’t white silk or brocade. She had asked that Kady create her gown in the palest of blue shades. With her warm undertone pale skin she felt it would bring out the flush in her cheeks. The natural waist gown, had a bodice of embroidered flowers piled on top of each other giving a very 3-D effect. They were arranged to give the allusion of a sweetheart neckline but the soft tulle came over her shoulders in a scoop neck that continued into long sheer sleeves. The flowers, similar to the beading of last year’s Christmas gown traveled into the full ruched tulle skirt. “She would be  _ so proud _ of you. Taking over a kingdom and finding a love that only so few have. It is everything she ever wanted.” 

“Thanks dad. I love you too.” He kissed the side of her head before putting the veil over her eyes.

“It’s archaic, I know. But, some _wise_ _queen_ thought it would be best,” he jested. 

Leading her to the procession he leaned down and asked, “Are you ready?”

“The future is nothing to fear,” her smile hidden with her head held high and straight. 

Alice could see Quentin as soon as she crossed the chapels threshold. Men always say that their wives looked most beautiful on their wedding day but no one ever mentions how amazing the grooms looked. Though she loved her fiance, soon to be husband, in his skinny jeans and hoodies it was crossing her mind that she was going to have to make him dress up in a suit quite often.

Eliot asked who presented their High Queen for marriage. David replied, “Her father… and the citizens of the South Quadrant.” A faint roar cheers could be heard from outside. There was a video feed streaming into every home and outside of the Berg and the people made their pleasure known. Good-natured laughter followed inside the chapel and Alice stepped up to the altar. 

Quentin lifted the veil to reveal the woman he had known he was going to marry from the moment he laid eyes on her. “You look spectacular,” he whispered.

“So do you,” she replied making him blush.

“We are gathered here on this holy day to bring Quentin Theodore Rupert Coldwater and Alice Aida Quinn together in holy matrimony. I have known Quentin almost my entire life. I used to think that I knew what was best for him. I used to think I would never be giving him away. But, I’m not. I’m seeing him for who he truly is and what is truly in his heart. Maybe for the first time.

“I might have only known Alice for this past year but she swept me off my feet the moment I saw her. She was in these cute little sleep shorts and I tried to get her drunk off of morning coffee. She had a head about her that I doubt anyone could go up against and win. We could not have been blessed with a better companion in our court.

“But the couple has written their own vows and wish to express them to you all. Quentin?” Eliot prompted.

“Uh, right! Alice.” He felt Alice squeeze his hands giving him strength. “So, I don’t think you know this but the first time we met wasn’t the first time I saw you. We had had that freak snowstorm in October? And you walked out of your father’s shop. I saw you from across the street from my store and I just  _ knew _ . I  _ knew _ I had to meet you. So, I grabbed my coat and I, uh, I ran across the street to try and catch you. But, when I got to the sidewalk, I stepped on an ice patch and slipped. You literally swept me off of my feet. And, everyday I looked for you. I had hoped that you would come back and you were just a browser. Then, one day, when I thought that you were just a figment of my imagination… you walked out of the store and into my life.

“So, uh, my vows. I promise to make you pancakes every Sunday with a pound of bacon drenched in maple syrup. I promise that I won’t let you get so caught up in work that you forget to take care of yourself. I promise to be your rock when things get to be too much and to pull you out of your head when it starts to over process information. But, most importantly, I vow to love you for the rest of my life.”

Alice took a breath and smiled at her groom. “Quentin. You are intelligent, funny, caring, and kind. More so than I think anyone has ever truly known. From the moment we first met I knew there was something different about you. Who knew it would be that you were king of a country?” She blushed at her joke and beamed when he honked out a laugh. “You have always been accepting of me and my ambitions. I know you as my number one fan and the person who I can trust to be honest with me at all times. Some might argue that being a king is who a person is. I challenge that. I might not have known your title, but I always knew who you were as a person. You are honest about your passions and I am so happy that I am one of those passions.

“I promise to be your champion just as much as you are mine. I promise to devote my life making sure that you know how much you are valued and appreciated. That when your world gets to be too dark and you think that there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel, I will be the light that guides your way. I promise to love you for the rest of my days.”

“Beautiful, truly,” Eliot said lowly. “Do you have the rings?” The bride and groom reached for their partners rings. “Quentin, repeat after me. I, Quentin Theodore Rupert Coldwater, take Alice Aida Quinn to be my wife and partner for the rest of my days.” Quentin, shakily, kept up with Eliot’s words. “To have and to hold; from this day forward; for better or for worse; through sickness and in health; richer or poorer; to love, cherish, and respect her; and promise to abide by my Sovereign Queen’s commands.” Quentin slipped on the gold and diamond band that was Stephanie’s onto Alice’s finger.

“Alice, repeat after me. I, Alice Aida Quinn, take Quentin Theodore Rupert Coldwater, to be my husband and partner for the rest of my days.” As always, Alice was the counterpart to Quentin, her voice ringing clear like a bell. Even if she was trying to keep the tears from flowing. “To have and to hold; from this day forward; for better or for worse; through sickness and in health; richer or poorer; to love, cherish, and respect her; and promise to abide by my Sovereign King’s commands.” Alice slipped on the simple gold band with an engraved star and diamond chip in the center onto Quentin’s finger.

“Do you, Alice, accept these vows as Quentin has recited them and make him your lawfully wedded husband?”

Alice beamed, “I do.”

“And Quentin, do you accept these vows as Alice has recited them making her your lawfully wedding wife?”

“I do.”

“By the power invested in me as High King of Fillory, I pronounce you husband and wife! You may seal your declaration with a kiss.”

Quentin leaned forward, taking Alice’s head into his hand and kissed her as with as much emotion as he could muster. The two parted to be greeted by a standing ovation as they made their way back down the aisle and to the double doors where the citizens of their country were waiting to congratulate them and usher in a new age. 


End file.
